


Crash and Burn

by HaniTrash



Series: Embers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Claiming Bites, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Happy Ending, I absolutely promise there's a happy ending, Identity Porn, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Winter Soldier (but no metal arm), Not Canon Compliant, Omega Bucky Barnes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prayer Circle for Bucky's Asshole, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shrunkyclunks, Spit As Lube, almost-fisting, fist-as-a-knot fucking, i wasn't expecting that, mentioned mpreg, mpreg exists in this universe now, oh god i just made a horrible pun in my tags i'm so sorry, so thanks for that brain, where everyone knows everything and it's all rainbows and unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 74,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: “Looking for assistance. I am a larger-than-average Omega, 5’10” and around 225lbs of mostly muscle. Often mistaken as an Alpha due to my build, and honestly I’m not sweet and gentle. Spent some time in combat, can hold my own and then some. Don’t come looking to dominate me. That being said, I’d like an Alpha bigger than me who *could* hold me down if I agreed to it. Don’t want someone I could break. I have frequent heats, and dealing with them alone is getting old.”When you're the most feared assassin in the international spy world, who happens to also be an Omega, it's not exactly easy to scrounge up a willing partner. After all, everyone assumes you're an Alpha based on your size and generally grumpy nature. The website is an online matching service that seemed doubtful to his skeptical mind, but all he's looking for is a cock to ride out his heats with instead of doing all the work himself. Should be simple enough, right?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow (mentioned), James "Bucky" Barnes/M'Baku (mentioned), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Embers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862167
Comments: 2359
Kudos: 2601





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [天雷地火](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322603) by [micchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/micchi/pseuds/micchi)



> Hi! This is my first attempt at writing A/B/O, even though I've read a bunch of it. Hopefully you like it! Thanks for reading, and I hope everyone is doing the best they can with the current lockdown/isolation/quarantine/plague going on. I'm sure I've missed some tags, since the story isn't done yet, and will add/update them as needed. But many of you know me by now and this is gonna get filthy, lol. ;) Also, identity porn! yay! Bucky and Steve are both hiding their true identities when they meet--Steve uses a nano mask/photostatic veil and fake name, and Bucky just uses a fake name.

When you're the most feared assassin in the international spy world, who happens to also be an omega, it's not exactly easy to scrounge up a willing partner. After all, everyone assumes you're an Alpha based on your size and generally grumpy nature. And then the organization Bucky worked for went tits-up in a massive overthrow by fucking _Captain America_ of all people, which, okay, they’d been secretly Nazis and needed to go, but he no longer has access to the high-powered suppressants that kept his scent and heats in check.

Bucky had been in deep cover in Brazil when it had all gone down. By the time he’d made it back to the states, it was clear that the government and SHIELD were of the mindset of ‘lock them all up and ask questions later,’ and _thanks, but fuck you_ , so he’d gone to ground. Hiding in plain sight in a city of nearly ten million people was fucking child’s play for him, especially when you didn’t have expensive tastes and were so fucking paranoid because of your job that you had a secret safe house and lots of money and different ID’s stashed at various bank vaults like you were fucking _Jason Bourne_.

 _This is fucking ridiculous_ , he thinks, as he scrolls through the website in a heat-induced desperation. It's supposed to be highly confidential, and at this point he doesn't even care about that. All he wants is a cock in his ass instead of the giant dildo he's riding. He can't endure another heat alone. Instead of once every three months, he's had five heats in as many months since running out of suppressants, as if his body was trying to make up for lost time. Or it's another lovely side effect to the serum they'd given him, and something in there had heightened his Omega needs in addition to enhancing the rest of him. Either way, scent blockers and filters did only so much to dissipate the stink of his den, and normal suppressants barely made a dent in his hormones.

“Might as well call this site ‘Mail Order Mates’ and stop beating around the bush,” he grumbles. “Call a spade a spade.” The website is an online matching service that seemed doubtful to his skeptical mind, but it was also the best one out there based on a million reviews—both from their own site and several other Omega chat boards and blogs. He’d checked out both the Omega side of the site as well as the Alpha side, because being thorough was his fucking _job_ and what had kept him alive to see his thirtieth birthday come and go two years ago.

There’s even two types of membership: one for those only looking for heat/rut partners, and one for those looking for a mate. He doesn’t see what the fucking difference is. Your designation wouldn’t let you fuck someone whose scent didn’t agree with you, which, at least in Bucky’s mind, makes everyone a potential _mate_ by default. His thumb hovers over the _mate_ button for a moment before he taps on _partner_. He has no interest in dragging someone into the hot mess that is his life, and really, he’s not exactly mate material anyway.

The questionnaire is _annoyingly_ long and detailed, but he answers it honestly—probably far more honestly than he would if he wasn’t in heat—and submits everything. He doesn’t expect an answer any time soon. He’d been extremely blunt about his own build and personality, and not many Alphas, at least in his experience, were interested in a _male_ partner built like a fucking _tank_. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t on any suppressants, and had included a statement about having frequent cycles, more often than the average Omega. And while you’d _think_ that a monthly booty call sounds like fun to most Alphas, who seem to think only with their dicks, it’s _work_ , and no Alpha has that kind of stamina or flexibility of scheduling. He’s hoping that maybe he’ll get lucky and can match with a few different people, so they can at least get a break every other month. He’s not _that_ selfish, after all.

*****

Things go well enough, considering that beggars can’t really be choosers. Bucky gets a handful of potential matches, and after exchanging scent samples, he doesn’t recoil in disgust at two of them, so they go forward with information exchange. They’re not an ideal scent, either of them, but he can get past that for the cock they are willing to give him. One goes by the name of Brock (he thinks it’s a fake name, but then again so is the name Bucky gave him—Shawn) and is a bit more rough than he’d prefer, but it’s only every other month, so he puts up with it without complaint. He can defend himself if needed, even with a knot stuck in his ass.

Brock smells like old smoke, like the kind that comes from a campfire when you extinguish it. Which…it’s not _terrible_ , but the moment he’s through the worst of his heat, Bucky kicks Brock out and lights several scent neutralizers to clear the air because there’s just _something_ about it lingering in his space that gives him anxiety.

His other semi-match is an absolutely _gorgeous_ mountain of a man named M’Baku who loves to dote on Bucky and always brings him gifts when he arrives. Bucky lets him stay the extra day through the end of his heat, even if he does feel smothered by the time he leaves. M’Baku smells wild and exotic, like some sort of flower Bucky doesn’t know the name of, and always gives him a soft kiss on the cheek when he goes—Bucky has a strict no kissing policy, but M’Baku is sweet and gentle enough that he allows that small concession.

All in all, though, it works out pretty well, and having the guys is definitely better than trying to deal with it alone. Neither of the Alphas knows that Bucky’s heats are actually only one month apart, and think that they’re his only lay. He’s pretty sure that M’Baku would be fine with it, but he just knows that Brock would cause problems. Brock definitely gives off possessive vibes, and M’Baku gives Bucky the feeling that he’d like to make things more serious between them. If Bucky _were_ to keep an Alpha around, he’d have to be a combination of the two men—not as posturing as Brock, but not so clingy as M’Baku.

Bucky is mid-way between heats, about two weeks out, when he gets a notification from the website about a potential new match. He’d happily replace Brock, so he opens it up and looks at the guy’s profile. _Grant_. Bucky snorts. What is this guy, some sort of rich preppy douchebag?

 _“Strong Alpha in search of a strong Omega. I have a larger build than many Alphas, and am very strong due to my line of work (retired Army, now work private security). I do not want to hurt anyone, so if you have a slight build *please* do not reply. If you are under 5’6” and weigh less than 200lbs I can assure you, I will not be interested.”_ Well, give the guy points for bluntness, at least. That was a feature Bucky could appreciate. _“Seeking: heat/rut partner. My ruts tend to be intense, hence the hard rule about body size. They typically last longer than the average, so you must be able to endure that. On the other hand, I am happy to assist someone with equally taxing heat issues (frequency, duration) as I understand the frustration of not being fully satisfied.”_

Bucky sat back and stared at the rest of the profile. The guy lived close, in Manhattan, so that was convenient. Bucky was on the edges of Hell’s Kitchen. Also a “no kissing” policy, as well as a disclaimer that he was happy to receive oral if the Omega desired, but would not perform it— _someone thinks awful highly of themselves_ , Bucky thought. Private security could potentially lead to Grade-A Assholes, especially retired military, but Bucky had a sense of earnestness to the overall tone of the man’s responses, in that he wasn’t trying to be a dick, but was exhibiting an overabundance of caution (hello, mirror). Grant reminded him of himself, and his own desperate need for help. Before he could overthink it, he hit _send profile and scent sample_.

Two days later, he had a message from Grant in his inbox. _“Shawn—your profile is intriguing, and I must admit, your scent is intoxicating. I hope you enjoy mine and we can move forward with meeting. Can’t wait to hear from you! -G.”_

In the afternoon, a courier package arrived with a single scent vial in it. When he’d signed up for the program, they’d had him provide a dozen such similar vials. You’re supposed to scent them and then return them to the company, and after a few uses, they’re destroyed because they lose their potency. When you get down to five, they ask for more. Grant had recently joined, according to his profile, so these were nice and fresh, which meant Bucky didn’t need to take a few minutes to clear his nose so he’d get a good read on Grant. Bucky settled on the couch, legs crossed, coffee and laptop at the ready to reply.

He gasped at the first whiff of scent, goosebumps racing across his skin, as he lifted the lid. Bucky _moaned_ as he fell to his side curled around the vial. He was _hard_ from the scent. He practically shoved the vial up his nose because he couldn’t get enough of it. _Jesus_. He reached forward, pawed for his laptop, and in a fog of hormones typed out a reply one-handed. _“Holy fuck YES Jesus Christ you smell amazing oh my god.”_ He included his private phone number, which he _never_ did, not even M’Baku had that after nearly a year of regular hook-ups, and returned to whimpering as he clutched the vial. He’d never had such a visceral reaction to someone’s scent before.

Grant smelled like fresh air, and earth, and corn fields, and hay, and the hot pavement after a thunderstorm. Grant smelled like _home_. He smelled like long-forgotten memories of a childhood spent on a farm in Indiana before his parents and only sister had died in a car accident on the way home from a dance recital. Bucky had been sick, in the early stages of puberty and his designation presenting. His grandfather took care of him so his parents could go. He’d never felt more guilty for being a weak Omega in his entire life. That moment was the one that had led him to joining the experimental program he’d seen Hydra offering at the fair the summer after high school.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why, but I love the idea of Bucky and Matt Murdock as friends. And one of my betas (Gwenpools_aesthetic) loves DD and writes some awesome DD and spideypool and team red and it's starting to just become a norm for me now to give her little gifts like this in my stories, lol. <3

Steve eyed the response from Shawn with an amused grin on his face. He’s pretty sure that if he’d been next to his laptop or tablet, he’d have sent a similar message the moment he’d opened the vial of Shawn’s scent that he’d received. Shawn’s profile had been clear, well-written, thought out. Insightful, almost. Steve had a feeling that the man was extremely thorough, meticulous, didn’t rush into anything, and knew exactly what he wanted. All things he could appreciate. His reaction to Steve’s scent, however…with a soft chuckle he prepared a reply.

_Shawn, I am so pleased to hear that! My schedule is pretty open at the moment, so if you’d like to meet for coffee to get to know each other a bit before your next heat I’m happy to do so. -Grant_

He included his phone number as well. Something told him that it was important for this particular Omega to make the first move. Very few people actually had Steve’s private cell number, and he programmed Shawn’s number in so that when he called, Steve wouldn’t answer with the wrong name.

Steve had been skeptical about the website, but Sam had assured him it was good, he’d used it in the past before joining the Avengers. When Steve had voiced concerns over his identity, Natasha had helpfully provided a photostatic veil for him that would alter his looks but wasn’t programmed to override his own voice. It was… _suggested_ that it wouldn’t withstand certain activities, and Steve was fine on passing up the kissing, so he'd simply included that on his profile. He could deal with not giving blowjobs, that had always been a hit-or-miss thing for him anyway.

He'd honestly thought he wouldn’t find a match. His requirements were specific, and finding an Omega large enough—and old enough—to not make him feel like a creep or worry about breaking something wasn’t going to be easy. The only gay or bisexual male Omega that Steve knows in his daily life is Peter. And while his enhanced body and “spidey strength” could easily withstand a thorough fucking from Steve, he just couldn’t even entertain the thought. Sure, the kid was in his early twenties and in college, and yeah, technically Steve was barely over thirty biologically, but Pete was a _kid_ and Steve felt like a total pervert whenever someone even mentioned the idea of it. Pete had even _offered_ after Steve’s first rut and it’d taken several days for either of them to be comfortable around each other after the way Steve had rejected the poor boy.

The site had sent him a handful of scents and profiles automatically, and while most had smelled nice, none had jumped out at him. A few he’d liked, but after reviewing their profiles, he’d rejected them as well. And then Shawn had sent his.

_“Looking for assistance. I am a larger-than-average Omega, 5’10” and around 225lbs of mostly muscle. Often mistaken as an Alpha due to my build, and honestly I’m not sweet and gentle. Spent some time in combat, can hold my own and then some. Don’t come looking to dominate me. That being said, I’d like an Alpha bigger than me who *could* hold me down if I agreed to it. Don’t want someone I could break. I have frequent heats, short-cycle of about two months instead of three, and dealing with them alone is getting old.”_

Steve had _loved_ the open honesty and candor with which Shawn had started out his profile, instead of trying to downplay his size or demeanor, not insisting that he could be ‘just as sweet and good for you as a real omega should’. Whatever the fuck _that_ meant. Fucking stereotypes about Omegas needing to be tiny and delicate. He’d skimmed the remainder of Shawn’s profile, mind already made up. He noted with some interest his location, recognized it to be on the outskirts of Hell’s Kitchen. _Hmm. If we match, maybe I can ask the Devil to do some low-key surveillance, maybe keep an eye on him for me between heats…it’s been a while since Cap checked in on that part of the city…_

Steve had been excited, looked forward to receiving Shawn’s scent vial the next day, and had been so impatient that he’d opened it the moment he’d gotten into the elevator instead of waiting until he’d returned to his floor. Which had been a mistake, because he’d then had to stumble into his rooms, tearing his pants off in his need to suppress the knot that had threatened to pop the moment he’d gotten hard.

He'd jerked off twice before his head had cleared enough to function again. Shawn smelled… _like_ _safety_ was the only word Steve could pin down. _Comfort._ Hot chocolate, leather, sunshine, the park at Coney Island—but from his childhood, not with all the modern underlays of vehicle exhaust and plastics. Fresh wood, warmed by the sun. _Home_.

Steve tried to ignore the bloom of hope in his chest as he sent the offer to meet for coffee. He couldn’t afford to find a mate, not with being Captain America. He couldn’t ask anyone to be forced to deal with the media, or the uncertainty of when he might have to run off to fight another alien invasion and possibly die. But someone who could maybe offer the respite of a warm body and welcoming embrace, someone he could shed the mantle of Captain and just _be_ with would be nice.

A short while later, his phone dinged with a text.

_Shawn: How fancy are you about your coffee? There’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall place kinda between us if you’re really in Upper East. No place for seating, but we could go for a walk…? The weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow._

Steve tried not to focus on the _tomorrow_ part. Shawn was smart, he needed to give his head time to clear from his reaction to Steve’s scent. And being outside would help to keep themselves from being overwhelmed as well, let them actually get to know each other a little, which was the whole point.

_Grant: Sounds great to me! Whatever time works best for you is good._

Steve was very, very consciously letting this man take the lead.

_Shawn: How about 2pm?_

_Grant: Perfect! I look forward to meeting you._

*****

Bucky stared at his laptop. He’d forced himself to close the vial of Grant’s scent, but he’d made no move to vacate the couch, where the smells were still the most concentrated. Finally, he could ignore his stomach no longer, and got up to make a sandwich. He’d memorized every detail of Grant’s profile by that point.

With a sigh of longing that was _very_ unlike him, Bucky climbed the hallway stairs up to the roof. Maybe some fresh air would help. Besides, he had some info for the Devil.

He settled in for his makeshift picnic and waited for the sun to set. As the dusk deepened, he whistled the call for the Devil. He’d been particularly pleased with his choice, the theme song for _The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly_. He had a soft spot for spaghetti westerns, sue him. It took a little longer than usual, but eventually Bucky heard the tell-tale thump of two feet landing on the roof.

“I would have made myself known sooner, but you don’t smell like you’re alone. I had to make sure.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry Matt.” Bucky felt himself actually _blushing_ , and what the fuck? He cleared his throat. “Forgot you’d smell it lingering and need to do a check. New potential from that website. I really liked his scent, couldn’t bring myself to close the sample for a while.”

“Really? He’s… _huh_.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing, I just…thought I recognized the scent, is all.”

“Yeah, well, you coulda helped me out, but… So I gotta do this.”

The Devil laughed as he came over to sit near Bucky.

“Sorry, buddy. You smell nice, but…”

“Yeah, I know. Not your type.” Bucky waved the thought away. He _may_ have _begged_ the Devil to rail him into next week the first time he’d seen him fighting. Well, after the fight. Bucky had jumped in to help when he’d come across the sight of the smaller man—which is a relative term, because the average man is smaller than Bucky—surrounded by what looked like a dozen ninjas of all things. He could tell that the Devil was a Beta but hadn’t cared because _holy fuck_ could that man _fight_.

And then, a few weeks later, passing the courthouse, he’d caught the same scent, and the way the man in the suit had locked onto Bucky…except he’d been wearing red-tinted glasses even on an overcast day and using a blind man’s cane…

A spy is a spy is a spy, though, and it hadn’t taken long for him to put two and two together with a little bit of snooping. After his own amazing transformation, not to mention what he’d seen of the Avengers, nothing seemed impossible any more. Not even a blind man being able to fend off a handful of ninjas and leap across the rooftops in the night.

He'd since learned that that night had been a fluke, Matt had been in a hurry and had forgotten to take his blockers to hide his scent before he’d donned the suit. Bucky had introduced him to the finer points of his own suit design, and now Matt had extra filters and blockers built into his, as a double layer of protection for his identity.

“So whatcha got for me, Bucky?”

“Well, the other day I was taking a walk and saw something odd, so I did a little poking around. Looks like a friend of yours by the name of Benjamin Poindexter was released from jail last week. Thought you might want to know, since it was done pretty hush-hush.”

The Devil cursed under his breath. “Okay, thanks, I’ll look into it.”

They talked shop for a few minutes, Bucky passing on info that he’d gathered for the Devil, and the Devil gently suggesting a few people Bucky might be interested in _visiting_. Bucky had caught on that Matt didn’t care much for outright killing, but if there was someone who should, say, become _critically_ wounded in an _accident_ , well, that was just beyond his control. He didn’t drop names like that very often, but it hadn’t taken long for Bucky to figure it out, either. 


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky was uncharacteristically nervous by the time he headed out for the coffee shop. That morning he’d followed up on one of the leads the Devil had given him and yeah, he was going to enjoy killing that fucker. Normally that would put him in a good mood, the idea of taking out someone so vile who trafficked Omegas, but all he could think about was the butterflies in his stomach over meeting Grant. Thank _god_ he’d had the sense enough to suggest a spot outside and a decent walk from his apartment. Nothing like trying to jump someone the moment you met them and not even having his heat as an excuse.

He could only hope that the guy was seriously ugly. It might help to temper his reaction to the man’s scent. Visual anonymity had been another huge selling factor for the website, in Bucky’s book. He didn’t want pictures of himself floating around cyberspace, just waiting for some program to find and match him up with a file somewhere under the heading of “missing Hydra goons.” But the site had made it clear that connections should be made through scent and through their profiles, algorithms matching them up based on their responses and then their noses saying yea or nay.

But because life isn’t fair, he just _knows_ this guy will be hot. And that’s just going to complicate things. Bucky really has no business being with someone who elicits this kind of a reaction from him.

He reaches the shop, happy to see that the place isn’t too crowded. Two steps in the door, though, he comes to a full stop, gasping for air.

Bucky was early—they’d agreed on two, and he was ten minutes early.

But Grant was already there, and had been there long enough for his scent to be the only thing Bucky could smell. He _knew_ that the shop smelled delicious, like fresh ground beans and cinnamon and vanilla and caramel, and whatever sweet treat was the special of the day. But his brain could only focus on _Grant_.

“Shawn?” he hears, and looks up to see a man standing before him— _over_ him, but not in a threatening manner—with one hand stretched towards him, hesitating just shy of actually taking hold of his arm.

“Grant,” he forces out, extending his own hand forward to clutch at Grant’s arm. Addled as his brain currently is, he’s still a damned trained machine, and he notes the way Grant clenches his jaw, how his nostrils flare, and his pupils expand. The employee at the counter is watching them with caution, one hand resting on the counter next to the phone in a display of casualness but her entire body is anything but relaxed.

“Do—do you need to go outside? You want me to get our drinks and—”

“Y—yes, thank you. Dark roast. Cream. No sugar.” He tears himself away from Grant and stumbles the few steps back out the door, nearly knocking over a group of people walking past as he makes his way across the street to the edge of the park.

_Jesus Christ what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m a fucking_ killer _and I just went to shit over a_ sniff _of Alpha._

“Shawn?” Grant is back, or rather has found him, and Bucky appreciates the hesitation in his voice, his concern with overwhelming what is clearly a distraught Omega. Well, fuck that. He may be an Omega, but one word that will _never_ describe him ever again is ‘distraught.’ He straightens up on the bench, takes a deep breath through his mouth, and pats the empty spot next to him.

“Hey. Sorry about that. I just…your scent was stronger than I’d anticipated it being in the shop.”

“I may have gotten there at one-thirty,” Grant says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in an _extremely_ adorable way. “I was—I _am_ —excited to meet you. Grant Stevens,” he says, squaring his shoulders—his fucking _huge_ shoulders—and holding his hand out for a formal introduction.

Bucky grins.

“Shawn Buckman. Nice to meet you, Grant.”

Grant’s eyes—pupils still slightly dilated, overtaking some of the hazel—crinkle at the edges as he smiles. Bucky takes a sip of his coffee, and Grant seems to remember his own and drinks as well.

“Normally the smell of coffee helps to… _subdue_ …people’s scents. The shop was a good plan, in theory. I’m sorry I messed that up,” he says, eyes roaming Bucky’s face. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.” Grant’s eyes go comically wide as he slaps a hand over his mouth, and Bucky laughs.

“Didn’t mean to let that one out, huh?” he teases between chuckles. “You ain’t so bad yourself, Grant.” And he’s not. There’s a strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, a small scar marring his right temple, straight nose, full lips, and a full head of dirty blond hair that he’s just dying to bury his fingers in. Very clean-cut, all-American, star quarterback kind of look going on that was definitely working for Bucky.

“Did you want to take that walk?” Grant’s voice is rough, as though he’s forcing himself to say those words and not something else.

“How much time do you have?” Bucky asks. Grant’s eyes zero in on his mouth when Bucky drags his teeth over his lower lip. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t his smoothest pick-up—his boss would have _killed_ him, he’d done plenty of honeypots in his days—but he didn’t really need to work hard to convince Grant to follow him home, of that he was sure.

And, seriously, why the fuck had he thought they _wouldn’t_ want to immediately have sex? Their entire point in meeting was to make sure they wanted to fuck their way through Bucky’s heats or Grant’s ruts. Meeting so far from his apartment now seemed like a horrible plan. Their entire acquaintance was centered purely on sex and the way their bodies reacted to each other, based on smell alone, never mind how they _looked_ to each other.

A cut-off groan comes from Grant, but Bucky feels the Alpha rumble that had been behind it and has to clench his ass to keep himself from getting wet. He’d worn the thicker Omega briefs just in case—always planning, always thinking—but regardless, he didn’t want to deal with that until he was at least closer to home.

“As—as long as you want. I have no other plans for today.”

“ _Mmm,_ that’s sweet of you to say.”

“S’true,” Grant says, watching Bucky lick a drop of coffee from his lips. Bucky really wants to know what Grant tastes like. He _loves_ sucking cock, if his partner leaves him to his own devices and doesn’t try to control it. He loves to be in control of his partner’s pleasure like that, loves reducing them to a babbling mess when he works his jaw right and gets their knot in his mouth also—not something many Omegas can do, because they’re too damned _small_ (hah!), and because the serum all but killed his gag reflex, along with his need to breathe for long periods of time. When he’s in heat he doesn’t have the patience for it, but in between, or when he was on suppressants, he’d been all over it.

Bucky stands from the bench. Grant waits, watching, following Bucky’s lead, which, _hmm_ , if it’s not an act, he’s not sure what to make of the Alpha letting him make all the first moves. Not that he minds it, of course. Except he’d probably let Grant do whatever he wanted, and he’s trying to not think about that too much.

“On your feet, soldier,” Bucky quips with his best ‘come hither’ voice and soft grin, teeth tugging gently at his bottom lip. Grant exhales heavily, as if he’d just sucker-punched him in the gut, before he stands. Bucky tips his head back, because Grant has a few inches on him, and watches the play of emotions in the man’s eyes. Right now they’re dark with desire, though he’s also clearly concerned, hesitant. Bucky tips his head to the side, brows drawn together, a silent question, giving him the option of speaking if he wants.

“I…it’s been a while since I’ve been with someone. Like…a long time.”

“You mean outside of a rut?”

“I mean like…at all. Years.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“Shit. That sounds awful. How the hell have you managed that? Were you on suppressants while you were active duty?”

“Something like that.”

It’s a non-answer, but, Bucky understands a bit about the need for secrecy and inability to discuss military matters, so he lets it go, because in the grand scheme of things, it’s irrelevant to him getting what he wants right now.

“Well. I wouldn’t want you to spontaneously combust on me when I call you for my heat. Maybe we should do something about that.”

Grant’s gaze slowly travels over Bucky’s body, open and deliberate.

“That’s definitely your decision, not mine. But for the record, if you’re inviting me to follow you home right now, the answer is yes.”

Bucky steps right up into Grant’s space. Curling his free hand around the open edge of the light jacket Grant is wearing, he pulls their bodies flush. Between them, he can feel the length of Grant’s cock, already very interested in this line of discussion. Bucky leans in further, rises up to speak directly into Grant’s ear. After all, they _are_ still in public. No need to make even more of a spectacle of themselves.

“I want the taste of your come in my mouth and the feel of your knot in my ass before this day is over. Is that clear enough of an invitation for you?”

_“Fuck,”_ Grant gasps. His hand grips Bucky’s hip tightly, as if Bucky’s touch had given him permission to do the same. “Jesus, _please_. _Yes,”_ he rumbles, and it sends a shiver through Bucky. He drags his teeth along Grant’s earlobe as he pulls away with a grin.

“How fast can you walk?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry but....blame the boys. This is the way they told me to write it....

His phone wouldn’t stop.

“God _damn_ it!” Steve growls, driving his cock into the glorious press of Shawn’s ass.

“Seems like…that might be…importan— _nnghh_ ,” Shawn pants, words dissolving into a moan.

“So is this,” he replies, feeling his cock start to catch each time he pulls back as his knot begins to swell. “Promised you a knot in your ass, too, remember?”

_ “Fuuuuck,” _ Shawn gasps, bracing himself. Steve’s hands tighten on his hips and pull him back, driving his knot in and holding him still while it enlarges fully. “Jesus, oh god, oh Grant, move, please, I can’t, I need— _fuckfuckfuckfuck_!” 

Steve rocks his hips, teasing Shawn with quick, short thrusts of his cock, moving the scant inch of room he’s got without ripping himself from Shawn’s tight hold, his swollen knot keeping constant pressure over Shawn’s prostate. Shawn comes with a howl, and Steve follows him with a deep rumble of satisfaction.

They get five seconds of bliss before his phone starts ringing again.

Steve literally doesn’t even give a shit that it’s the Avengers alarm. For the first time since the war, he’s buried in a warm ass—and one not lubed to hell and back with artificial slick, either, which, _fucking hell_ , he’d forgotten how amazing _that_ was. The way he’d opened up for Steve, how well he took his knot…Shawn feels and smells like heaven. The world could fucking burn to the ground right now for all he cares. 

But…they’d track his phone and come barging through the door if he didn’t answer, and that would be fun to try to explain to Shawn, so…

“Can you reach my pants if we move over to the side?”

“Private security, huh?”

Steve grunts, tries to use his annoyance to help convince his knot to go down as they shuffle sideways.

_ “What?” _ he snaps into the phone.

“You’re needed.” It’s Natasha, which somehow makes it worse.

“I’m occupied.”

“I’m aware. Ten minutes. Pier 97. We’ll be waiting.”

“Fifteen,” he says, and hangs up before she can respond. 

“I’m guessing you don’t have all day after all?” Shawn asks.

Steve sighs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Shawn’s scent takes a sugary sweet spike at the endearment that slips through Steve’s mental filter.

“And I’m really, really sorry that I’m going to have to pull out before I’ve fully gone down.”

Shawn groans. “I know. It’s okay. I understand.”

Steve feels a pang of guilt for that, but knows it’s far too soon to even contemplate telling Shawn who he really is.

“Count of three, okay?” Shawn nods, and Steve counts down. He hisses at the loss of pressure while Shawn cries out briefly as Steve slips from him.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he murmurs apologetically, pressing soft kisses to Shawn’s back as he does, careful to avoid the mass of scars covering his left shoulder and bicep. Shawn collapses to the bed, and Steve lets out a soft laugh.

“When’s your next heat due?” he asks, nosing at the nape of Shawn’s neck, drowning in his scent. 

“Week and a half,” Shawn answers, turning his head to the side and tipping his head back, offering up his neck. Steve licks along his now-exposed scent gland, and Shawn whimpers. 

“Do you want me here for it?”

“God, yes _please_.”

Steve smiles, bites back a laugh at the way Shawn almost sounds like he’s begging, and presses a kiss to his temple.

“I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

“’M’kay.”

Steve pulls his clothes on hurriedly, biting his lip to stifle a cry when his jeans zip painfully tight over his still half-full knot. How the _fuck_ is he supposed to get his uniform on right now? Whatever the fucking emergency was, he was going in there with extreme prejudice. Forget _coitus interruptus,_ what about _knottus interruptus?_ Someone was getting their head knocked off. Maybe several someones.

He storms from the building and down to the docks. As he nears pier 97 the Quinjet comes into view overhead. It spins around, ramp dropping, and Steve begins to run, launches himself off the end of the pier and into the waiting jet. 

He rolls to his feet and looks around. Natasha’s face is carefully blank. Barton is flying the jet, eyes locked forward. 

Rumlow is eyeing him curiously.

“Damn, Rogers. You smell good. Interested in sharing your new toy with the rest of your friends?”

Steve shoves past Brock, knocking him back into the wall with a snarl as he heads for his locker and begins to strip.

“Steve, you should—”

“Yeah, I fucking _know_ , Natasha. But there’s barely enough room to piss in there, so I gotta strip out here first before I wash up and douse myself in chemicals. Not like any of you ain’t seen my cock before in the locker room.”

He stomps to the tiny bathroom in his boxers, previously mentioned cock still clearly full and painful.

“Maybe it’s a good thing he’s so pissed?”

“Brock, shut the fuck _up_. Jesus. Fucking Alphas,” Natasha snaps behind him. Out of sight of Brock, Steve lets himself smirk. Natasha is a Beta, but she’s got bigger balls than half the Alphas he’s ever met. His money would be on Nat every single time. 

“You saying I’m wrong?”

“I’m saying shut the fuck up is what I’m saying. Don’t forget the pecking order here, Rumlow. Doesn’t matter what your des is and you know it. Don’t fucking antagonize him, because none of us will stop him when he throttles you. You’re here to provide the STRIKE briefing and coordinate plans.”

Steve loves Nat. Honestly and purely, like the sister he’d never had. He’s watched her spar with Brock in the SHIELD gym more than once, and would love to see them in an actual fight, but knows that she’s too disciplined to let it get that far and will put Brock in his place with her words first. Normally he’d do the same, but currently he’s too keyed up to bother pulling punches in favor of words. She is perfect as his second.

He's angry about having to wipe Shawn’s scent away before he’s ready to be clean. It fucking figures. First time he’s gotten laid since the fucking war, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it fully. With a sigh, he finishes scrubbing himself down with the scent wipes, drops them into the incinerator, and stalks back out to his locker. Someone, likely Nat, has put his clothes into a duffel bag and laid out his suit for him. From the top shelf, he retrieves the bottle of specially formulated scent blockers and pops two of them in his mouth, letting them dissolve under his tongue as he grabs the aerosol can and sprays himself down. The world knew he was an Alpha, but they didn’t need to know his scent or that of his ~~mate~~ —his _partner_. Not _mate_ , not a possibility, no matter what every cell in his body had screamed at Shawn’s first touch.

He tosses the thin film of the veil on top of the duffel bag and sits to start lacing his boots.

“So what’s so fucking important that you couldn’t handle it without me?”

*****

Bucky hasn’t fucked anyone outside of his heat since long before coming off his suppressants. He thinks…it probably had been his last honeypot, to be honest, since he’s had sex just because. Which makes it more than a few years. And nobody he’s slept with has a cock that can even begin to compare with Grant’s. 

The man is fucking _huge_. Thank fucking Christ for the serum and his healing abilities, because otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d have been split in two. Now Grant’s specifics on his profile made a lot more sense. 

He rolls and stretches, acutely aware that he’s slept lying in the mess of his own come on the sheets as they pull away from his stomach. There’s a vague throbbing in his ass that— _Jesus, even with sleep and the serum!_ —makes him smile like a fucking dope. Bucky checks the clock on his nightstand and sees that it’s six in the morning. Damn, he’d slept right through dinner and all night. 

He checks his phone and finds a text from Grant.

_ So sorry I had to leave like that. Difficult client. :/ I’ll be out of town for a few days, can only check my phone occasionally. I’ll message you again before I get home if I can. ~G _

Bucky thinks about that. He can’t decide how to feel about being disappointed that he can’t talk to Grant, other than deciding that he’s being ridiculous about the whole thing. So instead, he checks his news alerts—the Avengers are fighting some terrorist who kidnapped the President with a group of supersoldiers and can apparently breathe fire, what the fuck?—and then goes to the matching site. He sends a message to M’Baku about not needing him next week, and then sets his profile to _unavailable/inactive_ before he can second-guess himself _._ There’s a small flutter in his gut when he notices that, whatever else is going on, Grant has made the time to do the same to his since leaving Bucky’s apartment.

He starts a pot of coffee and heads for the shower. By eight, he’s sitting at the table, absently drinking his coffee while the sheets are in the wash and begins to plan how he’ll take down the trafficker Matt had told him about. His stomach is protesting its extremely empty state when there’s a knock at the door.

Bucky sits back slowly and retrieves the gun hidden underneath the table. He cocks it silently as he makes his way to the door and checks out the peephole, instantly confused by what he sees.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Delivery for a Shawn Buckman, from Uncommon Grounds.”

“Just a minute.”

He tugs on a pair of sweats so he’s not answering the door in his boxers and a t-shirt, and then double-checks the peephole. There’s still only one guy, a young kid, really, in uniform, holding a box and a bag, a bored expression on his face.

“What do I owe you?” Bucky asks, opening the door. He knows they do delivery, but he also knows he didn’t order anything. It’s do or die time, and he has to decide if this is a trick or not. He’s got his wallet in his hand, the gun tucked into the back of his pants.

“Nothing, sir, it’s all paid for.” the kid says, shoving the items at Bucky. “Online gift order. There’s a card. Have a great day!” he adds cheerfully. 

“Here, since you had to go up all the stairs.” Bucky hands the kid a ten dollar bill and takes the packages inside, re-locking the door the second it’s closed. He opens the card carefully, to find a printed note inside.

_ I feel bad that I didn’t even get to buy you dinner or make you breakfast this morning. Hope you like whatever flavors they had today! ~G _

Bucky exhales heavily and breaks the seals on the box. Inside is an assortment of pastries from the shop. The bag holds two pounds of coffee— _dark roast,_ he notes—as well as a travel mug of hot, fresh coffee— _cream, no sugar_. 

_ “Fuck me,”  _ Bucky exhales. He’s so done for. Grant is going to be the one who ruins Bucky’s carefully controlled life. He’s sure of it. He can see it already. 

And he’s not entirely sure that he cares.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve manages to finally steal a minute to check his phone late the next day. He’d felt terrible about leaving Shawn the way he had, so he’s happy to find a few messages from him.

_Hey, I get it, shit happens. I’ll take that as you’re good at your job, then. I did the security gig for a hot minute. Things come up._

The second message is much shorter, a simple _thank you :)_ which Steve assumed meant he’d gotten the delivery. The third message causes Steve to laugh outright. It’s stamped for not even an hour after the second, and is a picture of Shawn, a pastry stuffed in his mouth, leaning over the box showing only one item left.

_I have no willpower for sweets. You’re going to make me fat!_ followed by the emoji for the smiley face stuffing itself with food.

_I can help you burn off the calories next week, don’t worry. What’s your favorite sweet to eat?_ He asks, looking around to make sure he’s not needed. They’re at the clean-up and damage control stage, helping to ensure the local agencies are handling the fallout. Although this time that’s the feds and the CIA and the secret service, so mostly they’re around for pictures and to look pretty now. Not that he currently looks all that pretty with his uniform ripped and burnt in several places, or the burns on his arms. Or his split lip, or black eye… He _may_ have gotten a little too carried away.

His phone buzzes and he glances back at the screen, choking on the water he’s drinking as he reads the reply.

_Your cock_.

“Jesus,” he sputters, even as he feels the swell of Alpha pride at the comment.

_Unfortunately, I’m not even in the state, or we could arrange that sooner than later._ He hears his name being called and sighs. _Gotta go, duty calls. Should be home late tomorrow. I’ll text you when I know for sure._ He pulls up the internet as he makes his way over to where Rhodey is waving for him, quickly finds what he’s looking for, and hits ‘confirm order’ as he reaches the group.

“Everything okay?” Natasha asks quietly, appearing at his side.

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t usually pull your phone out during a mission.”

“Oh. Well, never really had a reason to before. Everything is fine, Nat.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “It cannot possibly be that serious already.”

“It’s not. Just making sure he was okay, considering how things were…interrupted.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Shut up.”

Natasha smiles at him, one of the rare, true smiles that were reserved only for certain people.

“Happy looks good on you,” she teases, bumping her shoulder against his arm.

“I said shut up,” he laughs, wrapping his arm around her neck in a mock choke hold.

They finish their photos and interviews and Steve grabs Rumlow, pulls him aside.

“You guys did a great job. Thank you for the help.”

“Just doing our job, _sir_ ,” he replies with a sneer.

Steve closes his eyes and takes as deep of a breath as his broken nose will allow. He’s trying to be a good leader, but this asshole always has to push back at him. If he wasn’t so good at his job, Steve would’ve asked for a different team or tried to replace Brock a long time ago.

“I’m not apologizing for what happened on the jet. But I _am_ trying to be nice. I’m serious. You guys did a great job.”

“No need to apologize for the jet. I’d be pissed if I was pulled away from Shawn’s sweet ass, too. I look forward to seein’ him next month for his heat. Did he let you toss him around a bit? He can take it, you know. Gotta admit, I was kinda surprised. Didn’t take you for a casual sex outside’a rut kinda guy if you weren’t seeing someone.”

Steve’s hand tightens threateningly where it had been resting on Rumlow’s shoulder, and he lets out a growl. The air surrounding them is suddenly full of Alpha pheromones as Brock straightens and shrugs Steve’s hand off. His face and voice turn condescending.

“Oh, poor Steve. Did you think you were gonna be his heat partner? That spot’s already taken. _Boss_.”

Steve doesn’t consciously make the decision to swing, he just does. He’s not even all that surprised when he sees Brock’s head whip back and the man goes flying.

“You don’t fucking _touch_ him ever again, you understand me? You don’t even _think_ about him.”

Brock is laughing at him from his position on the ground, beneath Steve’s knees pinning him there.

“Aww, you think you’re gonna _keep_ him? He’s not the kind you _keep_ , he’s too big and grumpy to be a _good_ Omega. He’s the kind you fuck hard and leave in the shitty dump you found him in.”

Steve has heard of _Alpha rage_. Everyone has. He’s even seen it happen, during the war. He’s never let himself get that worked up. With his enhanced body, he’d easily kill someone without even trying. He’d always removed himself from the situation, always been in control.

He doesn’t remember hitting Brock for a second time.

Or a third.

Or a fifth.

He becomes aware that he’s fighting, being pulled backwards, Natasha’s face in his as she climbs on him and wraps herself around his torso, talking to him. The Iron Man suit is braced against one arm, Rhodey at the other in his suit, both barely holding Steve at bay with thrusters on.

“You put him on another jet. Keep him the fuck away from me or I swear I’ll fucking kill him,” Steve snarls.

“Jesus, Steve, you nearly did already. What the fuck?” Tony asks, bent over Brock’s unconscious body.

“Steve, look at me. Focus on _me_ ,” Natasha says, cupping his face. She digs her fingers into the back of his neck, into his Alpha glands, and he feels the swelling in them start to go down. He takes a stuttering breath as the ( _rage-kill-how-fucking-_ dare _-he-say-that)_ anger begins to bleed out of his system.

Tony’s suit steps back, and Steve immediately wraps that arm around Natasha to support her, and her thighs lessen their death grip on his lower ribs in response. Rhodey is more cautious, as he stands back but keeps his hand lightly on Steve’s arm.

“I’m good, Rhodey. Sorry.”

Something in his face must convince the man, because he steps away, and Steve wraps his other arm around Nat, who lets out a hard exhale. Having her to focus on is helping. He once again thanks the universe for her presence in his life, and wonders not for the first time what he’d have been able to do in the war with her at his side.

“Good. _Better_. Now, carry me to the plane. I’d walk but I’m pretty sure you dislocated my knee fighting me off and I don’t want Clint to see that.”

“Oh _Jesus,_ Natasha! I’m sorry!”

“Shh! Just walk. Tell me what happened. Besides the obvious.”

He shakes his head as he watches Brock being tended to before he turns for the jet, careful to not jostle her too much.

“I don’t even fucking know. He started talking about Shawn and I just lost it. The things he was saying…implying…”

Natasha sighs.

“Listen, when I said that we wouldn’t stop you from throttling him, I wasn’t expecting _that_. You know you guys are going to have to go see Fury now, right?”

Steve groans as he sets her on the med table in the jet and begins checking her knee. It’s definitely fucked up and swollen already.

“Tell me what to do?” he asks quietly.

“You really like this guy?”

“I do. I…I know that I only just met him, but the connection, it’s…he could be it for me, Nat. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. Not before the serum, not during the war, not since waking up.”

Natasha gives him a sad smile.

“Then you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell him who you are.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

He pulls his phone out as the jet takes off, trying to think of what to say. _“Hey, so how’s it feel to be sleeping with a superhero?” “Hey, so fun story, you know how everyone lies on the internet?”_ Steve doesn’t see any way to make this any less jarring. He looks down and sees there’s a message from Shawn that came through right after Steve’s last. He hadn’t seen it before getting pulled into conversation with Nat.

_By the way, you can call me Bucky_. _It’s what my friends used to call me._

_And what do they call you now?_ he asks, not thinking much about it, other than feeling guilty that he’s hiding his identity still, in addition to trying to puzzle out what Brock had been saying regarding Shawn’s heat _next month_ when Shawn had clearly said _next week,_ and his profile said every two months. Things weren’t adding up, but he couldn’t exactly confront Shawn about it, and definitely not through text messages.

_If I had any friends now, I’d tell them to call me Bucky._

Well, shit. Now Steve really feels like an asshole. He’s not sure how to reply to that and is too tired to try to think about it, so he doesn’t say anything, afraid of saying the wrong thing and fucking it up. Instead, he closes his eyes for a power nap for the flight home.

As expected, after they land Fury hands him his ass for his actions with Brock, telling him in no uncertain terms that if he can’t keep himself in check he’ll mandate suppressants for Steve. He promises to do better and makes his way down to medical to check on Brock’s condition—because he _does_ feel guilty for how badly he’d hurt the man, regardless of what he’d been saying.

After what feels like an eternity in the now-ruined suit (which Tony gave him shit for also, despite the fact that he’d been actively defending Pepper at the time, and Steve knows it’s a defensive coping mechanism on Tony’s part so he lets it slide,) Steve is finally showered and heading for an informal debriefing. There’s food that he’s only half-interested in eating because he’s just _exhausted_ , drained from the adrenaline high of the fight and then the resulting drop afterwards, coupled with the Alpha rage and the drop from _that_. He _knows_ he needs food, it just seems like so much effort right now and he’d rather be at the tower instead of at fucking SHIELD headquarters.

He’s just outside the door to the conference room when his phone buzzes again. It’s a video from Sh— _Bucky_. Seeing his face eases some of the tension in his shoulders, and he smiles when Bucky winks at the camera before tipping his head back, even if he doesn’t have the mental energy to think about what the mere sight of Bucky does for his demeanor. _“Just think Grant, this could be you if you were here,”_ Bucky says, and then Steve starts to laugh so hard he cries, has to stop walking and lean against the wall as he catches his breath. Sam is there, looking amused by Steve’s behavior, waiting for him to calm down. Steve has no way to explain why the slow-motion video of Bucky upending a giant bag of gummy dicks over his upturned face, with mouth open wide, is so damned hilarious.

*****

_I needed that laugh, thank you._

Bucky smiles at his phone. He’s refusing to acknowledge the warm feeling in his core at knowing he’s made Grant happy, even if it was just that stupid video. He’d laughed his ass off when the delivery had arrived, knowing instantly who it was from even with the absence of a note inside the box.

_Glad I could help. Anything else you need? ;)_

_Besides to finish what we started? At least twelve hours of sleep. Walking in my door now. How are you doing? Sorry I haven’t thought to ask before now._

_I’m good, I promise. No damage, except to my ego._

_I’m pretty sure you can handle it._

_That’s not all I can handle._

_…that’s what she said?_

Bucky snorts.

_You’re such a dork._

_You have no idea. There’s still time to change your mind about next week. Get out while you still can._

_Not likely. I’ve been in an obnoxiously good mood since we met. I’m annoying myself, that’s how bad it is._

_Definitely sounds like you should run, then. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining your reputation._

_I’m more interested in you ruining my asshole._

_Fuck, if I wasn’t so exhausted…_

_It’s okay. I’ll survive a few more days until my heat. Besides, I’ve got work in the morning._

_Sorry, sweetheart._

_Really, it’s fine, I’m just messing with you. Get some sleep. We’ll talk later._

_Okay. Good night…Bucky_

_Night, Grant :)_

Bucky stares at his phone. Had he really just done that? Had a normal(ish) conversation with someone, _flirted_ with someone? Even if it had been texting and not actual verbal conversation…what the _fuck?_ He buries his face in his pillow. _Fucking hormones. Jesus I miss my suppressants if it’s going to be like this now that I met someone I really like._

When Bucky wakes in the morning, having something to focus on helps. His target’s routine means that his best opportunity is the man’s daily stop for breakfast at this little retro diner tucked away in some run-down corner by the railyard on the other side of town. While he’d _really_ like to just beat the shit out of the guy himself, he can’t take the chance of getting caught. So instead, once the asshole and his two goons are inside, he slips around and rolls under the large SUV they’re driving. While messing with a brake line might be less obvious, he doesn’t want to take the chance of them not actually dying in the resulting crash.

Bombs are messy, but fun and effective.

He straps the tiny device to the gas tank and slips back out, climbs up onto a nearby roof, and waits. Eventually the men exit the diner and climb back into the truck. Bucky waits until they’ve pulled away from the front of the establishment—because they have _damn_ good waffles in there, and he’s not interested in ruining someone’s business just because they happen to serve some douchebag breakfast—and not near other cars before he hits the switch on the remote. _Bye-bye, dickface_ , he thinks as he walks away, whistling. A few blocks away, he pulls his phone out and types as he makes his way back across the city.

_Your turn_ , he sends to Matt with a grin.

At lunch time, he receives a reply.

_That was not subtle._

_Don’t care. Want help?_

_NYPD is on it already._

There’s nothing else to say, so Bucky slips his phone back into his pocket and resumes watching the news on the tv in the corner of the little sandwich shop. A minute later it vibrates again and he sets his burger down with a sigh that quickly changes to a smile when he sees it’s Grant.

_You busy?_

_Nope, just eating lunch._

His phone rings in response.

“Hey,” he answers. “Miss me that much? Can’t wait a few more days?”

“Actually…” Grant starts, and Bucky can hear the strain in his voice.

“What’s wrong?”

Grant clears his throat. “Well, remember how I said it’d been a while?”

“Yeah? I don’t care if you were lying about that, wanting to make me feel better or something.”

“What? No, no it’s not that. It’s just…I…” he trails off, and Bucky can’t miss his heavy breathing or the slight groan that slips from him.

“Oh god,” Bucky gasps. “Did we trigger—?”

“I—yeah. Looks that way. I know you’re almost—”

“My place or yours?” he interrupts without hesitation.

“Can we—yours? Please?”

“Of course. You’re okay to make it there?”

“Yeah, I can manage.”

“Okay. Give me an hour? I’m not home right now, and we’re gonna need more food than what I’ve got, so let me hit the store on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am floored by the attention and feedback this fic is getting. You are all the best, seriously. You're making my crappy days happy and I love you all and thank you for all the wonderful comments!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Next chapter is probably going to be a little bit longer (by necessity...everybody pray for Bucky's ass, lol) so it might be more than a couple days before I post. It depends how much I can get done today, and I have to work tomorrow. If there's no post Friday I'm sure it'll be up Saturday. I've been falling behind on getting my one son to do his schoolwork because I've been writing so much and dealing with other school issues for my other son, lol.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexytime is here!!! (part one of two... ;) )

Bucky had learned the hard way a few days ago that Grant’s knot took fucking _forever_ to go down. He was hoping that it was due to not having sex for an extended amount of time (and seriously, how the fuck had an Alpha who looked like that not gotten laid?) and that after a few rounds, it wouldn’t last nearly an hour. He couldn’t deep throat a cock that big for _quite_ that long, and really wanted to get his mouth back on said cock. Bucky hadn’t been lying about it when he’d told Grant it was his favorite treat. The combination of Grant’s scent and taste had nearly sent Bucky over that first time. He’d hated having to pull off, but even after he’d coaxed a second orgasm out with his lips and tongue massaging Grant’s knot—and _oh, the sounds_ the man had made at that!—he’d remained rock hard, showing no signs of going down, and Bucky’s need to breathe had eventually won out over his stubbornness.

He stops by the little corner store down the block from his apartment and loads up on essentials—lots of meats and cheeses for protein, fruits, and sweet treats.

“A little early, eh?” asks the elderly owner from behind the counter.

Bucky shrugs. “Not me. My—” And how exactly does he finish that sentence? His _Alpha_? His _mate?_ Both were terrifying thoughts for the simple fact that they felt _right_. “My partner,” he finally says.

“Ahh. You need a delivery in a few days then?”

Bucky laughs. “Probably. I didn’t know that you offered that.”

“We don’t. But for you, I make exception. You help me, so I help you.”

“ _Nonni'_ , I told you, you didn’t owe me anything. I’d have handled those guys for anyone.”

Nonni' tutted as he packaged the meats, admonishing Bucky in a fluid mix of English and Italian. Bucky smiles as he pays for his items.

“You just call me. Tell me what you need. I bring it, you pay me after.”

“Okay, Nonni'. I will. Thank you.”

He leaves, arms loaded with bags, and just manages to get everything set down when Grant’s scent hits him. He’d left the door open, knowing Grant’s arrival was imminent, but also because he’d simply had his hands too full. Bucky never left any weapons out in plain sight when he left, so he wasn’t worried about someone seeing something they shouldn’t. But beyond that, his door was at the end of the hall, so there was rarely anyone passing by that wasn’t expected.

Regardless, expected or not, Bucky is fully unprepared for the smell of Grant in rut.

He grabs the edge of the counter and gasps. Every small individual hint of smell is intensified, the overall effect of _home_ damn near dropping Bucky to his knees in submission.

“Grant,” he breathes, turning to face him when he hears the door close. With a growl, Grant is across the room in a few quick steps. He cages Bucky against the counter, fists a hand in the hair at the back of his head and pulls hard, tipping his head back sharply. Bucky is panting, his body’s reaction immediate as he feels himself grow slick at the display of how much Grant wants him. Grant’s nostrils flare as the smell of Bucky’s arousal hits him, and he buries his face in Bucky’s neck.

They stay like that for a minute, Bucky’s heart racing as he fights to keep his wits about him while Grant nuzzles over his scent gland, mouthing it gently as they grind against each other.

“It terrifies me how much I want you,” Grant says, only a breath of a whisper, and Bucky’s not sure if he’d have heard it without his enhanced senses. Bucky wraps his arms around Grant, holds him, rubs his back soothingly. He’s not in distress, but he’s damn close, and Bucky can sense that there’s something else causing it beyond his rut.

Well, he can help with at least part of that.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos, feeling the slightest trembles in Grant’s arms as he struggles with whatever is going through his head.

“Hey, you’re not going to hurt me, okay? I’m going to help you through this. But I need you to let go for a minute so I can put all this stuff away. Can you get everything ready while I do that? Pull the blanket and sheet off the bed, get the candles and filters ready? Did you bring any toys with you that you want to use?” he asks, taking note of the overnight bag Grant had dropped just inside the door.

Grant shakes his head. “Just want you,” he says, voice muffled by Bucky’s skin.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. But unless you plan on knotting me and then carrying me around while I’m stuck on your dick so I can put these groceries away, you have to let go, honey.”

Grant huffs a laugh and presses himself against Bucky as he lifts his head. Bucky cups Grant’s face carefully and kisses his forehead.

“Get everything ready for us, okay? I’ll be as quick as I can. Did you eat yet today?”

“Just some cereal.”

“Alphas,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “As if ruts don’t make you ornery enough, you _never_ eat when one hits, and then what? You’re even more irrational. This is why Omegas are smarter. We feel our heat start and we carb load for all the energy we’re about to burn off. Here, eat this while you’re getting ready.” He rummages through the bags until he finds the box of protein bars and hands one to Grant.

Grant’s eyes are crinkled in amusement as he accepts the bar. His scent has leveled out, though, which pleases Bucky.

“Go,” he says with a gentle nudge. “It’s not like you’re going to lose sight of me from the other side of the room.”

Bucky hurries to get the cold items put away—he can worry about the dry stuff later—and says a silent prayer of thanks that he’d come back and showered before going out for lunch. He has a tv at home, of course, but he always enjoyed watching people’s reactions to the news of some terrible person’s death so he spends as much time in public as he can afterwards. It makes him feel good, makes him feel like he’s somehow atoning for all the shady shit that he’d unknowingly done for HYDRA, when he sees the relief or the joy in their eyes, even if they didn’t speak of it.

 _“Bucky,”_ Grant growls. It sends a shiver down his spine and slick gathers between his cheeks. Over a year of fucking M’Baku and Brock, and he’d never asked them to call him anything other than ‘Shawn.’ Less than a week of knowing Grant, and the idea of him _not_ calling him Bucky had felt incredibly wrong. Hearing it now for the first time from Grant’s lips, he knows it was the correct choice.

Despite his Omega response threatening to turn his legs to jelly at the undertones of Alpha command in Grant’s voice, Bucky grabs a second bar and throws it across the room.

“Eat another one. You’ll survive two more minutes while I go to the bathroom.”

Grant growls and Bucky chuckles as he ducks into the bathroom. He strips his clothes and freshens up, and when he steps out wearing only his boxers he finds Grant in much the same state of undress, standing next to the bed with his arms crossed.

“Glad to see you’re getting with the program finally,” he grumbles, eyes raking Bucky’s body.

“Oh, you are a _grumpy_ motherfucker in rut!” Bucky laughs, throwing himself at Grant and sending them tumbling to the bed. “Where’s that sweet bashful Alpha that was thirty minutes early to our first meeting and sent me those thoughtful gifts?”

“Waiting about three orgasms away,” Grant answers, driving his hips up against Bucky.

“Well then let’s do something about that, huh?”

Bucky lifts himself off Grant’s lap and shimmies out of his boxers before he reaches for the band of Grant’s.

“Mmm, hello gorgeous,” he says, licking a strip up the underside of Grant’s cock, reveling in the hiss that escapes Grant as he arches up into the touch. “Nuh-uh. Not yet. Not if it’s still going to take an hour for it to go down.”

“Not as bad when I’m in rut,” Grant pants. Bucky looks up the length of Grant’s body as he bobs his head for a few teasing strokes, lapping up the pre-come steadily leaking from the tip.

“Bucky, Bucky _please_ , I’m barely keeping control here.”

Bucky grins as he straddles Grant’s hips but doesn’t lower himself. He’s definitely got plenty of slick flowing to ease the way—more than he’s ever had outside of a heat, but that’s a fact to think about another time—but even aroused, he needs a little bit of prep to take Grant.

“Open me up, baby,” he says, and leans forward to brace himself on one arm while taking their cocks in hand together.

Grant spears him with two fingers, driving them in to the knuckle almost before Bucky finishes speaking.

“ _Ngh_ , fuck baby, yes, take what you need.”

A third finger quickly joins the first two and they flare out, twisting and stretching, and Bucky pants as he rocks back onto Grant’s hand and then forward into his own fist.

“Fuck, Jesus I know it’s not enough but I don’t care, I need you inside me.”

Grant makes another growl-like noise in agreement as he slides his fingers out and grips Bucky’s ass firmly, one hand on each cheek, holding him wide while Bucky adjusts his position. He slides Grant’s cock along his hole a few times, coating it in slick, using his hand to make sure Grant is well covered before he presses the thick head at his entrance. Grant’s hands tighten their grip on Bucky’s hips and pull him down as he snaps his hips up, and Bucky cries out as Grant fucks into him, seating himself in one go.

“Fucking _hell_. So impatient. Shit. Don’t—don’t move. You’re inside me now, okay? Calm down a smidge and give me a second.” Bucky’s eyes are closed as he breathes heavily through his mouth and one hand clenches and unclenches randomly on Grant’s thigh where he’s braced himself. He can already feel the pressure at the base of Grant’s cock for his knot and knows he’s not ready for that but accepts that it’s happening pretty damned quickly.

“Let me,” he says, opening his eyes and looking down at Grant, and _oh_ —his jaw is locked tight, pupils blown wide, eclipsing damn near all of the hazel in his eyes, and his nostrils flare as he breathes. “Oh, baby, don’t you worry, I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Bucky shifts forward, braces one hand on Grant’s chest and begins to rock his hips. They groan in unison, Bucky’s body stretching to accommodate, Grant’s trembling with obvious restraint.

“Need—want you to come, too,” Grant says, wrapping his large hand around Bucky’s cock.

“Oh baby, don’t you worry. The size of your fucking knot against my prostate? You know you’ll make me come on your cock.”

A pleased rumble vibrates through Grant’s chest beneath Bucky’s hand.

“Want you to come for me, sweetheart.” Grant shifts one hand to the back of Bucky’s head and the other wraps around his cock, stroking him in sync with the movement of his hips. “Want to feel you clamp down on me as I fill you, plug you up and make you mine.”

Bucky whines, a punched-out sound, at Grant’s words and the calm, casual way he’s claiming Bucky.

“Fuck you feel so good, sweetheart. Riding my cock like a champ, like I’m not almost splittin’ you in two. You almost ready, sweetheart? Because that knot’s coming. Want you to milk it as it fills. C’mon, honey. Give it to me.” Grant’s hand slips down to his neck, and when he presses his thumb against Bucky’s scent gland he loses it, his orgasm tearing through him.

“God, _yes_ ,” Grant groans as he follows, heat flooding Bucky, knot filling and locking them together.

Bucky watches Grant take his hand, now covered in Bucky’s come, to his mouth and lick it clean.

 _“Fuuuuck,”_ Bucky groans, drawing out the word as he clenches at the sight. Grant gasps and Bucky feels his cock twitch inside him. “Gimme a minute and we’ll get you another one,” Bucky says, collapsing against Grant’s chest with a pleased sigh. “Any idea how many you’ll need?”

“Not really. Don’t usually have help with this.”

“Well, you do from now on.”

If Bucky could facepalm himself without Grant seeing, he’d do so. His mouth always runs post-orgasm, just one of the many reasons Brock had gotten a bit rough with him on more than one occasion—because he’ll say _anything_ that’s on his mind, good or bad. He hadn’t _meant_ to let slip just how much he likes Grant already, but his mouth hadn’t gotten that message from his brain.

And he’s just going to ignore the happy purr that comes from Grant and the way his scent turns bright and sunny at Bucky’s words.

Grant wraps an arm around Bucky’s lower back and rolls them, burying his face in Bucky’s neck.

“God, I cannot get enough of your scent. I’m going to spend the next three days with my cock in your ass and my face right here,” he says, kissing and licking along his neck and jaw.

“Hmm, looks like you were wrong.”

“About what?” Grant scrapes his teeth along Bucky’s collar bone.

“About it taking three orgasms to make you sweet again. Looks like you only needed one.”

Grant rocks his hips, slowly but steadily.

“And how many before you stop being a smartass?” he asks.

Bucky laughs.

“Oh honey, ain’t nobody found that number yet.”

“Challenge accepted then,” Grant says, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s cock once more.

Bucky groans, even as he arches up and wraps his legs around Grant’s waist.

“Fuck. I’m going to die by the end of this week.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An entire chapter in Steve's pov, just heads up. Also, I am totally doing whatever I want with canon and made-up science-y stuff so if this isn't how the nano masks work...I don't care. Just saying that now, lol.

Steve stares at his face in Bucky’s bathroom mirror. He’d been worried about the mask, but it’s holding up better than he’d expected, given that he’s had it on for nearly two days straight now. They’d told him it would be fine, but given the…strenuous…nature of his activities and all, he’d been prepared to have to try to explain things to Bucky, accepted that it would likely end their arrangement. Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be an issue. The weirdest part was the stubble showing, actually somehow growing _through_ the mask and if that wasn’t just the most unbelievable thing out of all the technology he’d seen since coming out of the ice he didn’t know what else there could be.

Bucky was sleeping, worn out from their last round, and damn if that didn’t fill him with Alpha pride. Steve had decided to take advantage of a moment of clarity post-sex where his brain wasn’t a fog of hormones and endorphins to take a quick shower and then make some food for Bucky to have when he wakes up.

All thoughts of eating evaporate the moment he steps out of the bathroom, however.

Well, not _all_ thoughts. Because he’s about to go bury his face in the man’s ass and really test the limits of the mask.

Bucky’s heat is starting early.

Steve’s able to resist only just so much, especially when Bucky smells like _that_ in heat. 

He stumbles to the bed and flings the blanket aside, exposing Bucky’s naked body. He’s sleeping on his stomach, which is convenient as Steve grabs two handfuls of ass and spreads his cheeks wide.

Bucky makes a soft noise of confusion as he’s jarred from sleep.

“Grant? Wha— _oh, shit,”_ he moans, and buries his face in his pillow. “ _Fuck_ , what, oh god, but you said, oh _Jesus_ , Grant, _Graaannnttt_!” Bucky keens, trembles, falls apart beneath him as Steve gently runs his tongue over and around Bucky’s hole. It’s a far more restrained act than he’d prefer right now, because Bucky tastes as good as he smells, and Steve would be happy to suffocate himself against that opening, drive his tongue as far into Bucky as he can, lap up all that goodness from the inside out. Instead, he shifts one hand to hold Bucky’s cheeks apart and slips two fingers into Bucky, tugs his rim open and curls just the tip of his tongue inside.

A string of curses, pants, and moans falls endlessly from Bucky’s lips as he shudders and writhes against the bed.

“Fuck, sweetheart, how’s a man supposed to resist, when you smell so delicious?” Grant asks, sinking his teeth into the firm globe of Bucky’s ass. “Taste even better, too,” he continues. His fingers caress Bucky’s internal glands and he squirms, finally gets his knees under him and _presents_ for Steve.

“Grant, fuck, I’m gonna…oh god…”

Steve teases a few more licks along his rim and slips a third finger home just as Bucky comes. He’s barely done pulsing before Steve rises up and slides his cock in.

“Fuck, so wet and tight for me, take me like a fucking _dream,_ sweetheart. God. I could live in your ass forever, don’t ever want to leave it.”

Bucky clenches and pushes back, groaning as he does. Steve growls, grabs Bucky’s hips tightly, and grinds into him.

“Yes, god, _fuck me_ , harder, fuck, gimme that knot, want to feel it, c’mon honey, fill me, gimme that come, yes, fuck, _yesyesyesyes_ —” Bucky comes again with a harsh cry and Steve follows him, knot expanding as he collapses over Bucky’s back.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathes a minute later, still gasping for air. “What prompted that? Your profile said…”

“Do you have _any_ idea how fucking good you smell in heat?”

“I’m not…oh _fuck_. I feel it now. Your rut pulled me early?”

“Mm-hmm. Looks that way.” Steve nuzzles and kisses at the back of Bucky’s neck, drowning in the scent of happy and sated Omega.

“Shit. I was really hoping to have a day or two to rest in between.”

Steve laughs and rolls his hips, eliciting a deep groan from Bucky.

“God, you feel so good. I’m never fucking anyone else.”

A pleased rumble runs through Steve and in response Bucky clenches, while at the same time his head tips slightly more to the side, offering up his claiming gland. Steve licks over it and Bucky goes limp under him with a breathy moan.

“I’ve certainly lost track of how many, but apparently all it takes to make you sweet is your heat.”

“Asshole,” Bucky retorts, but there’s no heat to it, and Steve can see the smile on his face as he says it.

After two days of sex, his knot will be down in about twenty minutes, which is far more manageable than the hour it was the first time they’d been together, and Steve takes advantage of every minute of that to be sweet and gentle with Bucky, leaving kisses and licks and nips all across his shoulders and neck and whispered words of praise.

“So listen,” Bucky starts, and Steve knows that tone of voice by now, knows that there’s some smartass comment forthcoming. “Just to be very clear: you can wake me up like that _any_ time you feel compelled to, heat or not.”

Steve laughs as he slips from Bucky and settles on his side on the bed, facing him.

“I don’t normally…that’s not something I’ve ever really felt _compelled_ to do.” He brushes Bucky’s hair away from his face as he speaks. “I’ve done it a few times, but…I don’t know. I smelled you when I got out of the bathroom and it was all I could think about—seeing if you tasted as good as you smelled.”

“Yeah? And what’s your verdict?” Bucky wiggles his ass invitingly.

Steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“It was satisfactory.”

“Satis— _excuse me?_ That didn’t feel like you thought it was just _satisfactory_.”

Steve laughs as Bucky shoves at him, knocks him to his back and straddles him.

“You hungry, sweetheart? I was going to make us something before you distracted me.”

“I was _sleeping_ , dickhead. And yes, I’d love lunch, thank you,” he answers, even as he sinks onto Steve’s mostly-hard cock. “You can feed me after you knot me again.”

“Already?” Steve smirks, wrapping his large hands around Bucky’s waist, guiding his movements.

“Hey, you have a _ridiculous_ recovery rate and I’m going to absolutely take advantage of that until your rut fully ends. It’s your own fault for triggering my heat early.”

“Well, I’d have been fine ignoring it for a bit. I’m feeling pretty good this morning, not so crazed like when I got here.”

“Good, my turn to be a needy bitch then,” Bucky pants, increasing his pace. Steve starts to slide a hand towards Bucky’s cock and Bucky bats it away. “Don’t wanna come. Just wanna be _full_. I love your cock, Jesus. So big. It’s perfect. _Fuck_. I’ll never get enough of it.”

Bucky sets a frantic pace, hands braced on Steve’s thighs, slamming himself down onto Steve’s cock.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me. Give me that knot.”

Steve drives himself up to meet Bucky, barely restraining himself so he doesn’t hurt Bucky, doesn’t break a bone. 

Steve groans, grips tighter as he nears his climax.

Bucky moans, clenches impossibly tighter around Steve, mouth still running as he tries to make Steve come.

The metal frame of the bed gives them a single warning screech before it gives way, one leg collapsing.

They fall at an angle, towards the head of the bed. The jarring of the impact drives Bucky onto Steve just as he comes and they slide down to the corner. Thankfully there’s a pile of pillows at the head of the bed and they stop him from smashing his head against the wall or the floor.

Bucky laughs.

“Oops,” he says, smiling down at Steve.

“Well this is damned uncomfortable,” Steve says, bracing his arms against the wall to relieve some of the weight on his shoulders and neck.

“Not for me.” Bucky smirks as he shimmies his hips. “We’re definitely fucking at an angle like this again. You’re so goddamned deep it’s fucking _amazing_.”

Steve groans as Bucky clenches around him.

“Fuck’s sake, _stop_ clenching all the damned time! You’re going to kill me, milking my knot like that. That’s only going to make it last longer.”

“You’ll die happy then, right?”

“You’re making your own damned lunch,” Steve grumbles.

*****

Steve knows that Bucky’s heat is finished. Neither of them comment on it directly though. When they woke that morning, his scent had been returned to normal, losing that irresistible undertone that drove Steve crazy. He still smells amazing, sunshine and fresh air and warmth still curling around Steve’s spine and settling there, refusing to let go, like a missing part of his soul.

“I like this,” Bucky says, hand running over his jaw and the almost-week’s worth of beard growth there.

“It’s growing on me,” Steve replies.

“Oh you _asshole_! You said that with a straight face and everything!” He grabs a pillow and smothers Steve’s face. “Forget it. I hate it now. Just for that terrible pun. You have to shave it off for next time.”

Steve’s laughter cuts short.

“Yeah?” he asks cautiously, pulling the pillow down. “Next time?”

“I mean…” Bucky chews his bottom lip, suddenly shy and uncertain. “So long as you don’t go into rut at the same time. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit properly for a week. I might not survive that again.”

Steve chuckles softly, reaches forward and runs his thumb over that plump lip. He’s dying to kiss the man, but isn’t sure how that would be received, considering they’d _both_ stated on their profiles a ‘no kissing’ policy.

“I’m pretty sure that won’t happen each time. But there’s a strong likelihood of it repeating. Normally they hit about every four to five months.”

“Jesus,” Bucky says with a low whistle. “That’s twice a year more than most Alphas.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s why I was interested in your profile. I understand the difficulties of frequent cycles. Why I’m more than happy to have found someone I’m compatible with and can help. And maybe…” he lets himself trail off, unsure if he’s getting too ahead of himself or not.

“Maybe…?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised.

Steve takes a deep breath and forces himself to speak.

“Maybe, if you want to continue, uh, _partnering_ with me, I’m kind of hoping that if I’m having sex regularly enough, then I might go longer between.”

Steve couldn’t care less if his heats spread out further. All he wanted was to be able to continue seeing Bucky. And if he agreed, then next time…next time he’d tell Bucky who he really was. Steve knew now that he’d never be able to maintain the charade. Not with Bucky. Not when the man meant so much to him already.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works, Grant,” Bucky says with a grin that says ‘I hear your bullshit and I’m going to call you out on it.’ He shifts and Steve rolls to his back as Bucky straddles him. They’re on the floor, broken bedframe shoved into the corner and mattress thrown down in its place.

“Sounded like a good excuse,” he says honestly, voice thick, as he trails his fingers lightly up Bucky’s arms.

“Well then we better make sure you get all the sex you can before you have to go back to work.” Bucky rolls his hips, teasing Steve’s cock along his perineum and up the length of his own.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Definitely.” Bucky nods his head, continues the sinuous roll of his hips, the slide of their cocks together quickly bringing them both to full hardness. “Can you go without your knot popping?”

“I don’t…I’ve never tried with someone else. But with myself, yes.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully as he shifts his hips, angles himself in a way to drag slick along Steve’s cock.

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to. Not if you’re sore.”

Bucky hushes him as he seats himself on Steve’s cock.

“Want this, baby. Want _you_.”

Steve groans and arches into the movement, head thrown back.

Bucky’s tongue trails along Steve’s neck, and his breath falls hotly against Steve’s ear when he speaks.

“Rut or not, _heat_ or not, I want you. You drive me wild.”

“Bucky,” he gasps, arms circling the man’s waist, hands mapping every inch of muscle, every ghost of a scar on his back. Bucky’s mouth closes over his scent gland, teeth teasing over the skin, and Steve shudders.

“Been a long time since someone was sweet on you, too, huh baby?”

Steve makes an undignified whine and feels Bucky’s smile against his skin as he kisses and nips his way to Steve’s claiming glands. At the first brush of his lips, Steve comes with a harsh moan.

“Don’t think that’s the way to avoid my knot, sweetheart,” he manages to get out.

Bucky laughs softly as he lifts his head enough for their eyes to meet. “Oh baby, believe me, I know that.”

He traces a finger along Steve’s lips and Steve licks at it, is rewarded with Bucky sliding two fingers into his mouth as he sits up, arches his back to settle deeper onto Steve’s cock and take his swelling knot. Steve brings his legs up and plants his feet, and Bucky reaches back with his other hand to wrap it around the back of Steve’s thigh, anchoring himself as he slowly rolls his hips, just enough to stimulate his prostate with Steve’s knot.

Watching Bucky ride him, take his pleasure from Steve, is damn near a religious experience, and Steve comes again when Bucky does, a toe-curling orgasm that comes from his bones, his _soul_ , as his body experiences release with nothing to show for it, having been milked dry from so much sustained sex. Bucky is in much the same state, only the barest amount of come sliding down his twitching cock.

Bucky eventually comes back to himself and looks down to Steve, slides his fingers from his mouth. The air between them is heavy, thick with unspoken emotion, and Steve knows in this moment, there is nothing he won’t do to keep this man. Somewhere in the last week, Bucky has taken his heart.

Steve slides his hands up from Bucky’s waist, gently coaxing him slowly forwards. Bucky’s hand still cups his jaw, and he slips his thumb across Steve’s lips when they’re only inches apart. Steve stills, following Bucky’s lead. Bucky’s eyes search his, and Steve can see the fear and the want warring in the stormy blue-grey depths. Eyes locked on each other, breaths coming fast and shallow, Bucky closes the distance between them, brushes his lips over Steve’s in the most feather-light of kisses around his thumb.

“I’d be happy to continue _partnering_ with you,” he whispers before pulling back. “Any time you’d like,” he adds.


	8. Chapter 8

Things got weird after Bucky kissed-but-didn’t-kiss Grant. And he knows it was all his doing, because Grant was clearly on board with taking their “partnership” to a very different level.

Which was just _completely_ terrifying to Bucky and went against everything he’d ever thought or told himself that he wanted.

Not that it’d stopped him from _almost_ kissing the man. His body had felt electric for all of about ten seconds, until he’d realized what he’d done and promptly had a massive internal freakout and excused himself to take a shower.

It’s just that kissing is kind of a big deal to him, now that he’s the one in charge of his life again. Since high school, the only kisses he’s had were, well, crappy. Not really, not technically. Because he knew What He Was Doing. HYDRA had seen to that. They’d fucking _trained_ him how to kiss, how to seduce a target, how to get them to spill their guts (sometimes literally) by distracting them with his mouth on their body to the point of desperation and overload. And yeah, maybe he’d used a bit of that skill on Grant earlier in the week during his rut. But kissing, _real kissing_ , that just was a part of himself he wasn’t willing to give away.

It was frightening how much he wanted to kiss Grant, after such a short amount of time knowing the man. How that barest contact of their lips had sent sparks shooting down his spine, had felt so _right_ and _real_ in comparison to every calculated and planned touch from his past. Had made him feel _good_ instead of _cheap_.

He’s taking far longer than he should to wash up, he knows that. He’s never been one for avoidance, and while some tiny part of him hopes if he just stays in the bathroom Grant will leave, he knows the man won’t do that. In fact, he’s pretty sure that he’ll probably apologize to Bucky when he finally leaves his chosen hiding spot.

Bucky sighs and pulls on the sweats he’d brought in with him, wincing slightly as he bends. His ass _hurts_ , and it’s amazing and glorious and something he never thought he’d have after the serum had given him the ability to brush off most injuries and discomforts. He _loves_ the soreness, the deep-seated ache in his core from being thoroughly ravished over the course of several days.

He opens the door to find his apartment more or less returned to its normal state. Grant had found a way to support the bed frame, even if just temporarily, changed the sheets and started the wash, cleaned up the remaining scattered dishes, and lit the neutralizing candles and opened the windows.

The last two items cause him immediate distress (in addition to the bedding, but he can concede that the sheets were probably a biohazard at this point between sweat and slick and come) and he runs to close the windows and slam the lids on the candles.

“ _No no no no,_ ” he says, aware of the whine and distress in his voice but unable to stop it.

“Bucky?” Grant asks softly, hesitant. He’s leaning against the counter, where Bucky had seen him staring into a cup of coffee as if it could divulge the secrets of the universe to him—or at least the secrets of Bucky’s mind—before he’d noticed the rest of the apartment.

“No, don’t, I don’t want—it’s _gone_ ,” he cries, collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic flailing of his arms.

“Bucky?” Grant asks again, only this time his voice is closer. Bucky lifts his head from where he’s holding it in his hands and finds Grant crouching on the floor just a few feet from him. He’s within arm’s reach but not touching, as if afraid of Bucky’s reaction.

“It’s okay,” he says, trying to hide the sadness—or _disappointment?_ —in his voice. “It would’ve been gone eventually,” he sniffs, fighting tears now _for some stupid reason because he doesn’t fucking_ cry, _for fuck’s sake._

“I’m sorry. I—I thought, well, with what happened…” Grant stammers.

“I get it. I’m sorry. This is my hangup and baggage, not yours. And it was nice of you to straighten everything up for me. Normally I’d have done the same thing the second you left. I just…didn’t want to get rid of the scent. Your scent. Not yet.”

Grant studies him for a moment before he sits back and pulls his shirt off. Silently, he holds it out to Bucky. Bucky stares at it for probably longer than he should. He knows the outcome will be the same, that he’ll take the shirt. But his brain has decided to dial it up to eleven again apparently, so he stares, and wonders if taking it makes him a needy Omega. Wonders if taking it sends the wrong signals to Grant. Wonders why he fucking cares so much about the man’s scent, why he can’t stop being upset about his apartment no longer smelling like a den, like their combined scents.

He stretches one arm forward, lets himself hold Grant’s hand through the shirt as he lifts his gaze to the man’s face. He looks pained, as though he feels like he’s screwed up, and Bucky recognizes the look of an Alpha who is totally lost but only wants to help their Omega even if they don’t know what’s wrong.

Bucky tugs gently on Grant’s hand, the lightest of suggestions, and Grant inches forward until their bare chests are flush. Grant’s hands are conspicuous in their lack of contact with Bucky’s body as Grant braces his arms on the couch to either side of his thighs.

Cautiously, Bucky cups Grant’s face and holds his gaze as he brings their lips together in a chaste kiss. Grant shudders and moans, clearly fighting his instincts as he holds himself still for Bucky. Bucky pulls back enough to speak, but presses his forehead to Grant’s as he does.

“I’m not changing my mind about next time, alright? I just…you gotta give me time, honey. There’s lots still that you don’t know about me, or me about you, and we don’t have time for right now. Lots of reasons why I shouldn’t have anything more than just a partner. Lots of things we need to talk about still. Including…including whatever this is, okay?” He trails the tip of one finger over Grant’s bottom lip. “But we’re good, okay?”

Grant swallows audibly, and Bucky feels some of the tension seep from him.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Now lemme have that shirt so everything smells right again and my stupid brain shuts up.”

Grant laughs softly and helps him put the shirt on. The open appreciation and desire in his eyes helps return some of Bucky’s confidence and swagger, and he leans back into the couch, wrapping his legs around Grant’s hips as he does and pulling their groins snug against each other.

“You see somethin’ you like?”

“Think I’m gonna leave all my shirts here for you. Like the thought of you walking around in them when I’m not here, just so you can smell like me.” Grant grinds against him as he speaks, and Bucky groans.

“Baby, I _literally_ cannot take your cock again right now. I’m so fucking sore it’s unbelievable. And before you apologize, I fucking _love_ it and you’ve got a lot to live up to now for next time.”

Grant barks out a laugh and nuzzles Bucky’s neck.

“Didn’t learn your lesson from the last challenge you issued me?”

“Never,” he grins, arching into Grant’s body.

“Hmm. Good to know.” Grant presses a kiss to his collar bone and Bucky reaches between them, gets his hands on the button of Grant’s jeans. “I thought you said—?”

“I did. Taking my chances on you being too drained to pop,” he answers, shoving his own pants down enough to free himself and get their cocks lined up. “But I gotta fix the smell in here before you go.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Grant groans. “You’re going to be the death of me, I’m convinced of that now.”

“Your cock ain’t complaining, baby. Come on, mark me. Cover me in your come. Make it smell like you again in here. Ain’t nothing in the world that smells as good as you, baby. Swear to god. Got so hard the first whiff of you I got.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Bucky!” Grant hisses, teeth scoring along his jaw as their bodies rock together, fucking into Bucky’s fist. Grant drops a hand to his cock and holds tightly at the base as Bucky continues to work them in unison. With his free hand, Grant shoves the shirt up, exposing Bucky’s stomach, and watches as he comes. Hot lines of white stripe Bucky’s skin and Bucky’s mess joins Grant’s only seconds later.

Bucky sighs, a contented smile on his lips.

“That’s better.”

The answering rumble from Grant spreads Bucky’s smile wider.

Grant’s head dips and he licks at their combined releases, moaning as though it’s the best delicacy in the world. Bucky huffs out a laugh.

“I know, baby. But you gotta leave it. _Want_ you to leave it. Need the scent.”

Grant rests his head against Bucky’s chest, over his heart, and after they’ve caught their breath, he pulls back. Bucky can see and sense the shift in him as he grows serious.

“You’re okay though? Really?” He tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ears and leaves his hands resting loosely on his neck.

“I am. Thank you.” He _might_ be lying a smidge, because physically he’s fine for the most part, but emotionally he’s anything but. Yet he can’t keep Grant here any longer. “Definitely better now,” he sighs, and the sound is both contented and resigned. “But you need to get back to work. I’m sure I’ve got stuff piling up at my job. And you made so much food the last two days that I don’t have to cook tonight. I’m good. Really.”

“You know you can call or text me any time, right? For any reason? And as long as I’m not busy I’ll always be there.”

A sappy smile spreads slowly across his face, and Bucky ardently refuses to acknowledge the warmth in his chest.

“I will.”

*****

At some point later, his phone dings and he sees a text from Grant.

_Are you awake? Have you eaten yet?_

Bucky looks around, surprised to find that he hasn’t left the couch, but is in the same spot he’d fallen into after Grant had left. He’s been staring into space for nearly two hours.

_Yes…and no. Getting something now before I go to sleep. You should be sleeping, too. You have work tomorrow, don’t you?_

_Contract got canceled. Client decided not to do the trip._

_Well, at least you’ll be able to rest and sleep in then. :)_

_My body literally does not know how to sleep past 6am. Hey, if I sent you something kinda big and costly, would you be upset? Please be assured that I can comfortably afford anything I spend on you and it makes me happy to take care of you._

Bucky stares at the phone for a minute, conflicting thoughts fighting for the chance to phrase his reply.

_…I think it would depend on what it was? I appreciate you asking first. Outside of my heat, I get defensive about someone ‘taking care of me’ as if I was incapable of doing it myself. You’ve probably figured that out already._

He sets the phone on the counter as he pulls leftovers from the fridge to heat up and distract himself from how thoughtful and considerate Grant is, and wondering what his secret is because nobody is that perfect. When he goes back to it, there’s a reply.

_I have. Hence the question. I can promise you that it would be for the benefit of both of us if you let me do this. And I can one hundred percent vouch for the men who’d be delivering it._

Bucky takes a deep breath, holds it, and counts to ten before he releases it.

_I can promise to **try** to not freak out about it. That’s the best I can do if you won’t tell me what it is ahead of time._

_Thank you, sweetheart. It’ll be a few days. I’ll let you know when to expect it, okay?_

_Okay. Thank you._

*****

In the morning, Bucky stops by the store to pay Nonni'.

“Oh, no, no. You all paid already.”

“Nonni', I haven’t left my apartment in a week. How could I have possibly paid you already?”

“Yesterday. Your man. He come and pay me. Very nice man. You keep him, yes?”

“Nonni', I—”

“Listen to me,” Nonni' interrupts, wagging a gnarled finger in Bucky’s face. “He starts to talk about you, and he gets all starry-eyes and big smiles. I see it. I know the look. Him? He is over the moon for you. _You_ have that look when you come in last week to get food for him. I know you. I see you. You think I don’t? You think you don’t need anyone. You keep everyone away. You are sneaky about it, but I see. He is good for you. Maybe too good, eh? Don’t you let him go.”

Nonni' pats him on the cheek and laughs as Bucky just stares at the man.

“You kids. You don’t know nothin’ ’bout nothin’. Nothin’ ’bout _love. Courtship._ He does. He gets it. You let that man court you, you hear me? You _let him keep you_. Here. You take this. From him. Go on now. I have more orders.”

Nonni' shoves a box in Bucky’s hand and herds him to the door in his shuffling gait.

“What—? What’s in here?”

“Food, of course!” Nonni' says, rolling his eyes. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, eh?”

There are no other customers in the store, but Bucky suddenly finds himself standing on the sidewalk, completely bewildered as to what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me for some unknown reason. I'm happy with where it's at now, so hopefully you all like it and it works!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give SO MUCH LOVE to my amazing beta Gwenpools_Aesthetic for her help with this chapter. I'm not very confident or skilled at writing interesting/believable fight scenes so she basically wrote half this chapter for me in just a few hours when I said I wanted a fight in it. Show her some love for me? <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenpools_Aesthetic>

Steve smiles at the selfie he gets of Bucky with his tongue placed suggestively inside a cannoli. _Last one left. Gonna need something else to suck on soon,_ he’d written. It’s been almost a week since they’ve seen each other, but they text and talk on the phone often. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have time to respond to Bucky’s message before he hears Brock’s voice in the hallway and he quickly stuffs the phone in his pocket.

“Brock,” he calls out.

Brock slows to a stop out of arm’s reach and eyes him warily.

“Boss,” he says, cautiously.

“You’re looking better.”

“No thanks to you,” Brock shoots back immediately.

Steve sighs. “Yeah. I know. I’d say I’m sorry, but…as an Alpha I’m sure you understand.”

Brock crosses his arms and manages to look annoyed, even through the splint on his nose and the residual bruising around his left eye.

“You got a point?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. I don’t know how you know Shawn and I don’t care. But I’m telling you right now, you stay away from him. He’s not yours.”

“That mouth of his is pretty hard to resist, huh? Although he tends to run it too much. Nothing a few smacks can’t fix though. He can take it.”

A growl rumbles through Steve and he clenches his fists at his side.

“Brock. I am _asking_ you, Alpha to Alpha, to leave him alone. I will _order_ it as your boss if I have to.”

“As my _boss?_ Really? And this relates to my job performance how? You don’t have a leg to stand on here. _Sir_. The best you can do is turn my face into hamburger again because you’re so gone over some Omega who doesn’t have the sense enough to be submissive. You know what? You can have the idiot. He’s not worth my time. You’ll see. He’ll kick you out not even halfway through his fuckin’ heat, and then you’ll have to go find some real Omega who fuckin’ knows how to treat an Alpha just to take care’a your knot. Fucker does it to me every time and then wonders why I smack him around.”

Steve swallows and breathes deeply through his nose.

“Get out of my sight before I hit you. I’m not interested in having another meeting with Nick about why I can’t beat you senseless.”

“Whatever.” Brock waves an arm in dismissal as he goes past, and Steve takes a few minutes to calm his breathing and his heart rate before he pulls his phone back out to continue his conversation with Bucky.

His heart drops into his stomach when he looks at the screen.

In his hurry to put his phone away, he hadn’t locked the screen, and his hand had hit the ‘call’ button.

Bucky had answered. And not hung up for a few minutes. According to the call log, Bucky had heard every moment of that conversation between him and Brock.

His hands shake as he hits the dial button and brings the phone to his ear. It rings twice and then gets sent to voicemail.

_Please answer_ , he texts immediately.

_I can’t talk to you right now. Please don’t call._

*******

Bucky’s ears are still ringing from the adrenaline and the racing of his heart when Grant tries to call him. He sends it to voicemail, and immediately gets a text from him.

_I can’t talk to you right now. Please don’t call,_ he replies, and then turns his phone off for good measure.

He needs…he doesn’t know what he needs. He can’t focus on anything, can’t process what he’d heard, can’t settle the itch under his skin as he paces his apartment, a live wire of excess energy.

Bucky really wants to punch something.

And…he can’t think of why he _shouldn’t_ channel all this into something productive, and not just to help him silence the voices in his head. He pulls out the locked trunk from his closet and gets his uniform. He leaves the heavy vest, opting instead for the lighter lining layer of his coat, and his tac pants. Bucky eyes his mask and goggles, but it’ll be dark soon, so he grabs the plain black ski mask and cowl instead and shoves it into a pocket on his thigh. He stows a few knives, straps on his boots, and heads up the fire escape.

He's whistling as he goes, announcing his presence as he jumps roofs and makes his way towards Matt’s building. He’s never actually shown up there like this, out of respect for Matt’s need for privacy. The few times he’s gone over it has been as himself, through the front door, delivering supplies for his uniform (and maybe adding images to his mental spank bank while they were making adjustments, because _fuck_ that leather _did things_ for Matt’s ass) or bringing him information if he was in the area.

By the time his feet hit Matt’s roof, the man is waiting for him, in full gear.

“What’s wrong?”

Bucky checks the position of the sun as it sinks toward the horizon—it’ll be fully set soon.

“I need a fight. Lots of fights. Or one big one. I don’t care. I just need to punch, like, everything.”

Matt tips his head in the way that says he’s assessing Bucky, and if he didn’t know the man was blind, he’d say he could feel Matt’s gaze traveling over his body.

“Just a few knives? No guns?”

“Need to punch. Not shoot. But you know I never leave home without a knife or two.”

Matt’s lips turn up in a wry smile.

“No killing?”

Bucky shrugs. “I mean…I’ll try…”

Matt laughs as he turns away. “Alright then. Try to keep up!” he calls over his shoulder as he flings himself off the building, baton flying out to catch on a railing and swing himself up to the next building.

“Asshole,” Bucky breathes under his breath, laughing, as he backs up to get a running start.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to realize that they’re headed towards the river, and he assumes they’re headed towards the docks until Matt pulls up short at what appears to be a demolition site on 44th and 11th. Something about Matt grabs his attention, and Bucky watches the man carefully as he stills, taking deep breaths. He’s seen Matt using his remaining senses to map out an area—to notice things even Bucky wouldn’t be able to see with his super-serum enhanced vision, and this…isn’t that. There’s something more going on. Something different. Something Bucky isn’t used to.

All of Matt’s regular bluster is gone and, even hiding behind the mask, Daredevil appears to be genuinely shaken.

“Haven’t been back here. Even if it’s just by a block, I’ve always been able to avoid it. But… If you want a fight, that’s where we’ll find it.”

“I don’t understand.” Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand next to Matt, and gazes down at the rubble of what appears to a massive high-rise building. Or, more specifically, a _former_ massive high-rise building. “There’s nothing here. It’s just some old building that got torn down, probably to make way for some high-rise apartments or something. Come on, man. I’m not in the mood for games. You got a fight for me or not?”

“Look closer.”

There’s something about Matt’s voice—darker, rougher than Bucky has ever heard it before—that allows no argument, and Bucky briefly wonders what it’d be like to watch him in a courtroom. Before he can distract himself with that train of thought, he looks down again.

The first thing that clicks in his head is that the rubble is all wrong. There isn’t enough of it, to start, not for the size of building this must have been. And yeah, maybe they’ve already hauled some of it away, but there aren’t any dump trucks parked waiting to resume the excavation in the morning. Also, it’s too new. The metal beams are still shiny. The concrete of the patios is untouched by mold. The lines of the building itself, what still remains of them, are too modern, too clean. This was a new building.

And then the news story starts coming back to Bucky. It was a few years ago—earthquakes with an epicenter in Hell’s Kitchen. The newly completed Midland Circle building collapsing to the ground. It had struck Bucky as unusual at the time. It hadn’t looked like an earthquake to him, more like a controlled demolition, but fresh on the run from the fall of Hydra at the time he’d decided it was none of his damn business so he’d put it out of his mind.

He’s just about to speak up when he realizes he’s been looking at it all wrong. Matt wasn’t telling him to look closer at the building itself. As usual, the blind vigilante lawyer was looking deep beneath the surface. But now that Bucky sees them, he can hardly see anything else.

The building is swarming with people.

Down in the debris, easily overlooked and missed by someone at street level, there is movement. They’re covered from head to toe in loose, flowing robes with only a slit to reveal their eyes. They move silently. Even from this far above, Bucky can tell that their feet aren’t making a sound. Not a single person lost their footing even slightly as they travel across the precarious landscape. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, exactly, but he could see a line of them disappear, ant like, into the cracks of the rubble. Another line reappeared moving up, carrying buckets.

“What the fuck…?”

Matt isn’t looking down. He doesn’t even turn towards Bucky. If he were sighted, Bucky would say he was staring off at the horizon. “There was a substance, under Midland Circle, that the Hand needs to maintain their immortality. I thought I’d destroyed it when I brought the building down. Apparently I didn’t.”

“You…” Bucky stares at the man next to him with newfound appreciation. “Okay. I have a lot of questions. First off, the Hand are immortal?”

“More or less. It does mean we don’t need to go as easy on them. Just don’t slice off any of their heads.”

“Neat. Second question. You brought the building down?” He probably sounds more impressed than he should. He should probably be horrified by that. Oh well.

Matt laughs. “I mean, not all by myself. I had help. Anyway, it’s less like I brought it down and more like it was brought down on me. Regardless—you ready to go kick some creepy zombie ninja ass?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

“No gods here,” Matt growls, before flashing Bucky his most devilish grin and launching himself backwards off the building.

Bucky shakes his head, curses under his breath, and follows.

They start at the outskirts of the building, focusing on Hand soldiers exiting with their quarry. The buckets they carried were filled with a dark, thick, viscous liquid.

“Don’t get any on you!” Matt shouts, as he delivers a vicious spin kick that knocks three ninjas off their feet at once. Two spring back up and Matt kicks one in the chest, knocking them backwards into a pile of I-beams, before slamming the other with a head butt to the nose.

“Why?” Bucky asks, throwing an elbow into a jaw and grinning at the sound of bones splintering. “Will it turn me into a zombie?” A Hand soldier attacks him from behind, and he flips them over. Their legs collide with another soldier, and both crumble to the ground.

“Nah!” Matt throws one of his billy clubs, which bounces off of the back of a man’s head. The man drops to the ground. The club bounces back into Matt’s hand. “It just really stinks and your boyfriend probably won’t like it.” He grins at Bucky.

“Ah, fuck off,” Bucky spits back, but he’s grinning too. The two men turn in unison, standing back to back as a new wave of ninjas moves towards them. About half of them have swords now, and Bucky pulls out his knives to block. “Should have brought those guns after all,” Bucky grunts out, and he can hear Matt laugh in response.

“Where’s the fun in that?!”

_“Fun?_ I don’t know how to use a sword, asshole! Won’t really be able to fight back if I get my hands on one!”

“Move faster than them, then!”

A sword comes at Bucky’s head and he catches it between his palms, driving the hilt back into the wielder’s skull. Two more soldiers rush towards him, and he ducks down, knocking out their legs and then stomping them for good measure. _Fuckers need to stay down!_ He’s not opposed to learning a new fighting skill, but now is not the time, so he doesn’t keep the sword but lets it fall. 

He can see Matt fighting out of the corner of his eye. He can hear the clash of sword on billy club and then, shortly after, sword on sword. Okay, now he _really_ needs to learn, because if _Matt_ can do it then goddamn it so can he. Bucky feels a jolt as Matt slams back into him harshly before cursing and then stepping away. He turns to make sure everything is okay and gets just a glimpse of the man—illumination from a flood light flashing off his horns, red like the blood trickling down from one side of his mouth, a sword glinting in each hand, and _Jesus_ if he didn’t have whatever the fuck was going on with Grant he’d definitely make another pass at Matt now—when a swift kick to the ribs brings him back to his senses. He grunts and runs one of his knives into the neck of the man who kicked him, no killing be damned. He flips the knife before using it to gut two more soldiers.

A kick from behind takes him down, and Bucky winces as he gets another jolt to the ribs. They’re coming faster now, wave after wave of Hand soldier, and Bucky kicks up to his feet before crouching down into fighting posture. Instincts take over. He’s not proud of what Hydra made him, but all the training he’s received sure does come in handy sometimes, and his mind goes peacefully blank, singularly focused on the feeling of his fist against a jaw, his foot against a chest, his knife against a neck. He spins, and finds Matt is closer than he’d realized.

“We gotta go!” Matt shouts. “There are more on the way. Too many, even for us.”

Bucky nods. Knows a strategic retreat when he sees one. Doesn’t stop him from taking out four more ninjas as they rush out of the rubble, running down a dark alley.

“Get close!” Matt shouts.

Bucky follows the direction before even thinking about it, and steps up to Matt’s side. It’s not until Matt’s got an arm wrapped around him, under his arms and holding him firm against Matt’s hip that Bucky even realizes what’s going on.

“Grab hold,” Matt commands, and Bucky wraps his arms around the Devil’s neck before the two men are swung up off of the street and onto a rooftop. It’s only when he notices that Matt isn’t running anymore that he sees the Hand aren’t following them.

“So now is when you finally try to cop a feel?” he asks, pulling off his mask and running his hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

Matt laughs. “Figured it would be better to get us up off the street before someone saw us. Sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t think there would be quite so many.”

Bucky shrugs, tries to laugh himself, and winces at the pain that shoots across his ribs. “No worries. It was exactly what I needed.”

They’re headed back towards Matt’s apartment when the Devil pauses, head cocked to the side, and Bucky knows he’s listening to something. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You got ten more minutes? Should be easy this time, I swear. No fighting.”

Bucky smiles. “I’ve got nothing else to do. I’m all yours tonight, angel.”

Matt seems to pause, considering Bucky’s words, before shaking his head with a smile. “Come on. This way.” He clambers down a fire escape, and Bucky can’t help but notice that Matt isn’t moving quite as gracefully as he was earlier that night, either. They’ve both got cuts and bruises, and Bucky’s suddenly struck by the fact that he’s received a serum to help him heal faster; as far as he’s aware, Daredevil has not. Even when they reach the ground, Matt isn’t moving that quickly, and Bucky’s not sure if it’s because he’s in pain or the situation isn’t urgent.

Turns out it’s the latter. The two stop in front of a liquor store. It’s closed for the night, but the front display window has been smashed in, and Bucky can hear the voices of two men inside. Daredevil doesn’t venture inside, he just stands by the front door with his arms crossed across his red-leather clad chest. The door swings open and a young boy, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen, backs straight into Matt’s waiting arms.

The kid spins around, curses, and drops the bags he’d been holding. Bucky hears a bottle break.

“Shit is right,” Matt retorts. “What the hell, D.W.? What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s nothing. We weren’t...this isn’t what it looks like,” the kid—D.W.—stammers. “Farley and I, we was just walking, right? And we saw this smashed window and…we wanted to make sure everything was okay. I’m an upstanding citizen.”

Even without seeing his eyes, Bucky knows Matt is rolling them at this kid. Behind him, another guy about the same age, Farley apparently, walks out of the bodega. “What’re you gettin’ on about, D.W.? You’re not afraid of this clown, are you?”

“Do not…” D.W. starts to warn, before Matt is in Farley’s face. “I’m not going to hit you right now, but only out of respect to Luke.”

“Fuck that!” Farley shouts, and he’s taking a swing at Matt, who dodges it easily and returns a right hook across the kid’s jaw. The kid goes down, but he’s still blinking and shaking his head and spewing a stream of curses, so Bucky knows Matt didn’t use his full strength.

“Get him out of my face, before I decide I need to tell Luke about this,” Matt tells D.W., who nods and begins to gather up the bags they’d dropped. One is steadily leaking a stream of clear liquid.

“Leave the bags, asshole,” Bucky says, stepping out of the shadow he’d been concealed in. Both kids’ eyes go wide, and D.W. practically scoops up Farley before they both high tail it out of there.

“Luke?” Bucky asks, as they’re headed back across the street to the fire escape they’d just descended.

“A friend of mine,” Matt answers noncommittally. “I recognized those two from when I’d visited him in Harlem a ways back.”

***

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky says, passing the bottle of cheap whisky he’d liberated from the kids’ plunder over to Matt.

“What’s up?” Matt takes a swig from the bottle as they—well, just Bucky, really—watch the boats loading and unloading at the docks a short distance away.

“What do you know about Grant?”

“Grant.” Matt’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Don’t be a dick. You know who I’m talking about. You smelled him on me the day I got his vial from the website and knew who he was. And I know you were around my building while I was in heat, you know he was there. Shit, you were teasing me earlier about him.”

“He’s…can I ask why you’re asking?”

Bucky sighs and takes another drink, gently knocking the back of his head against the metal housing of the machinery he’s leaning against.

“I…I really like him. But I get the feeling that he’s keeping something from me.”

“And does he know about this?” Matt gestures with his arm, clearly indicating Bucky’s attire, the blood splatters, the broken ribs currently knitting themselves back together.

“Yeah, I know. He says he works private security, and I said that I saw some time in combat. But it’s kinda hard to just come out and tell someone that you’re at the top of the Avengers’ Most Wanted list, though.”

“No more unbelievable as a blind lawyer doing all this,” Matt scoffs, taking the bottle back. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that if they got a chance to talk to you, got to know you, they’d realize you weren’t exactly aware of what you were being used for.”

“Sure, maybe two years ago. But not now that I’ve been hiding from them for so long. And regardless, I still did it. I pulled the trigger.”

Matt shook his head. “As someone who knows a thing or two about guilt, let me tell you that you don’t own the guilt or blame for those deaths. And the men who do or did own that have been punished.”

Bucky downs the remainder of the bottle and holds it out, studies it. “Shoulda got a bigger bottle,” he grumbles.

Matt laughs softly, and Bucky notices, not for the first time, how beautiful the man is when he smiles.

“Anyway, back to Grant. Tell me about him.”

“I really shouldn’t…ah hell. Fuck it. Okay. He’s probably the most genuine person I know. When there’s something or someone he believes in, there is no holding him back, no stopping him. He’s really good at his job. He inspires loyalty, has a close-knit group of friends. If he likes you, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. And if he _really_ likes you, well, I imagine that you’d know. And I can guess that’s why you’re asking me about him. He can be…intense.”

“I was afraid you were going to say all that,” he says with a frown.

“Can I ask what happened? Because it seems like there’s still something you want to talk about. You wouldn’t have been itching that hard for a fight without a good reason.”

Bucky rubs at the back of his neck, runs his hand through his hair.

“I don’t even know how to put it in words. Don’t know what exactly it is. I…heard something I probably shouldn’t have. And while what I heard wasn’t really anything bad, I just…freaked out about it. Because I have lots of conflicting feelings about it.”

“Does he know you heard it?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m gonna say so.”

“And have you discussed it?”

“No. I turned my phone off like I’m in fucking high school so that I could avoid him.”

Matt’s lips quirk into the faintest hint of smile before he schools his expression.

“And how do you think he’s reacting to that?”

“He’s a fucking _Alpha,_ how do you _think_ he’s likely taking it?”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Shut up, I’ll fucking call him, okay? Asshole. Don’t fucking lawyer me with a million questions.”

“I’m just saying. The night’s still young. He’s probably awake.”

“Alright. That’s it. It’s time for me to leave,” Bucky says, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. He holds his hand out and Matt grabs it, pulls himself up as well. “Thank you. Seriously. For the fight and for the talk.”

“Any time. And Bucky? I’m serious…whatever you heard, or think you heard, I can guarantee it’s not as bad as you think. He’s a really great guy. I’d be lucky to find myself someone half as good and decent as him some day. Call him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little tidbit for those of you who don't know:  
> Nonno is the Italian word for grandfather. In Italian it is common to add suffixes to grandparent names. Nonnino and nonnetto are also terms of endearment meaning "little grandfather." Occasionally, nonnino will be shortened to nonni, but nonni is also the word for grandparents plural. So in this story, Nonni, (who you all love and it makes me so happy!) is basically the tiny little old neighborhood grandfather. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, a bit shorter than the last chapter, but this came together nicely yesterday for me and it felt like a really good place to leave things, so... :)

Bucky showers and then stares at his phone while he eats. He’d turned it back on to find a few texts from Grant—and thankfully, only those, not a million voicemails as well.

_ I’m not sure what you heard, but whenever you want to talk I’m here. _

_ I’d like a chance to explain, but understand if you don’t want to speak to me again. _

_ It’s been a few hours. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re safe and you’re okay. Call me night or day if you’d like. _

It’s been another few hours since that last one, and Grant is definitely sitting on “read” if he’s looked at his app, which Bucky is sure he has.

This kind of shit right here is why he’s been so adamant about not developing feelings for anyone all these years. Fucking hormones. In his goddamned thirties and he doesn’t even know how to have this conversation because he’s never had to do it _for real_ , never had to give up actual parts of himself in return for the information he got.

_ Matt wouldn’t lie to me, _ he tells himself for the millionth time.

It's well past midnight when he finally makes himself pick up the phone.

_ You awake?  _

The reply is almost instantaneous, and that makes Bucky feel like more of an ass.

_ Yes I’m here.  _

Bucky puts his ear bud in and hits the call button. He needs his hands free to do busywork, keep himself distracted from getting too stressed out. Cleaning and sharpening knives is the perfect task. 

“Hey.” The phone has barely completed the first ring before Grant answers. Bucky hears the caution in his tone, and steels himself.

“Hi,” he says, and hates how soft and small his voice sounds to his own ears.

“Sw— _Bucky_ , I—thank you for calling. Are you okay?”

There’s silence for a moment before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, you’re Brock’s boss?” Might as well jump right into it. Brock had said he did Secret Op stuff, implied more than once that he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it because of who he worked for, and Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that Grant worked there too.

“I…yeah. If it means anything, I didn’t hire, _wouldn’t_ have hired him, because he’s an asshole and even if he’s good at his job I just plain don’t like him.”

Bucky barks out a startled laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got that in common then.”

“But…you…with him…?” It would be adorable how uncomfortable Grant sounds talking about this if Bucky wasn’t trying to stay mad at the man.

“Yeah, well, he was one of the best options I got from the site. He’s not wrong about me kicking him out all the time.”

“Should I feel as good as I do, hearing that?”

“Did you really beat him up over me?”

“Yeah.”

“Should I feel as good as I do, hearing that?” Bucky asks, repeating Grant’s words back to him. He hears a soft purr come from Grant and sighs. “When?” he asks.

“When what?”

“When did you beat him up?”

“Oh. Well. Uh, it was after our first time. When we got interrupted. He recognized your scent on me, before I’d gotten changed and cleaned up.” There’s a slight grunt and then Bucky hears the distinctive clang of weights dropping.

“Are you working out right now? At one in the morning?”

“Yeah, well, I was worried about you and couldn’t sleep. But I knew if I showed up at your place you’d probably kick my ass for being there uninvited. So it was either go run fifty miles or hit the weights to burn off the anxiety. Anyway, after we finished up, he started running his mouth about you, same kinda bullshit that he was spewing today when you overheard the conversation, and I just lost it. Because even though I barely knew you at the time, I knew he was _wrong_. Just like, after last week, I know for certain that he’s wrong, and if that’s how he saw you, then that’s on him and his fucked up views on roles and expectations and designations.”

A pained sound escapes Bucky.

“But he’s not wrong,” he whispers. “I’m everything an Omega isn’t. I’m mouthy. I’m independent. I’m fucking _huge_. I’m not tiny and sweet and clingy and obedient.”

“You’re sweet for me,” Grant replies. “And I like you for _precisely_ all those reasons. I don’t want someone who won’t think for themselves, who won’t stand up for themselves, who can’t take care of themselves. Do you have any idea— _any idea—_ how I feel, knowing that you’ll let me do things for you? That you like and appreciate them? Not because you can’t do whatever it is that I’ve done, but because you trust me to not take advantage of that _gift_ you’ve given me? How I feel, especially after that asshole had those things to say, that you’ve allowed me to see so much of you in such a short amount of time?”

Bucky exhales a shaky breath and sets his combat utility knife next to the bowie he’s already sharpened. He pulls his throwing knives closer and starts in on those.

“Okay. That’s…that’s gonna take a while for me to internalize and accept, you do understand this, right? Because I spent my early pubescence very weak and sick, and then spent the rest of my teens and twenties working to make myself as strong and independent as possible so I would never have to rely on someone to take care of me ever again. So you wanting me expressly for that reason…I never planned or expected to meet anyone that I’d even consider anything other than sex from. You…you make me want things I didn’t think I could have and that fucking terrifies me.”

_ “Sweetheart,”  _ Grant breathes, and Bucky closes his eyes, takes a few breaths before continuing.

“My initial reaction to you _claiming_ me like that, to Brock…I was _pissed_. I was angry at you, for having the audacity to say it. I still am, a bit, because you had no right to assume such a thing. I thought I’d misjudged you, that you really were just like every other Alpha, and thought you could just spend a week with your dick inside me and then decide I was yours. And…I was _hurt_. Because I didn’t want to be wrong about you…and I was mad at myself, because hearing you talk about me like that, telling Brock off on my behalf…I _liked_ it.”

Silence descends between them once again, and if he couldn’t hear Grant’s breathing, he’d think they lost the connection.

“Are…are you sharpening knives? I keep hearing what sounds like a whetstone?”

Bucky chuckles softly. “Yeah. It’s kind of like my meditation. That or cleaning guns. But I don’t have enough guns on hand to keep my brain occupied during this conversation. So I pulled out my knives.”

“You know, I thought that one door frame looked suspiciously marred. Target practice?”

“Yeah. So, you know, you better be careful next time I see you. You’ve been lucky so far. I always have a couple knives on me. And you’re a big target.”

Grant laughs. “You can take the man out of the army…” he quips.

“Something like that. Although I wasn’t army. _They_ won’t take Omegas.”

“Because they’re stupid. And I kinda figured that when you said ‘time in combat’ you meant some sort of Special Ops, spy games type of stuff.”

“Alphabet soup,” Bucky throws out, because the CIA has no qualms about taking Omegas, and it was easy to let Grant think he’d worked for them, and make him need to hide less of his skills and trained habits.

Grant grunts in response and the silence is easier this time.

“How many guns do you have in there? That’s a small apartment…”

Bucky’s laugh is genuine, has him rocking back in his seat as he looks around. “Lemme count the hiding spots…”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Grant cries, and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s true surprise or mock horror, but it makes him laugh even harder.

“Five hidden, and a handful more locked in the trunk,” he gets out around his laughter. _Not to mention the small arsenal in the self-storage unit,_ he doesn’t add.

“Five? _Five?_ I saw _two_ when I was cleaning up last week, but didn’t question it, because of what you said about your previous employment, and I get wanting protection, especially if you were going through heats alone for a while, but _five_ hidden? _Where_?”

Bucky can barely breathe, he’s laughing so hard.

“Guess you’re not so good at security after all, if you can’t even sweep a small studio apartment properly.”

“I wasn’t looking for five fucking guns, Bucky! I was just looking to tidy up the mess we’d made!”

“Oh, god, stop making me laugh, my ribs still hurt.” He clamps a hand over his mouth, but he knows it’s too late.

“Bucky…”

Bucky clears his throat and does his best to sound nonchalant. “Yeah?”

“Why do your ribs hurt, honey?”

“Because sharpening knives as meditation is the last step?”

“Last step to what?”

“Dealing with anger and anxiety and frustration?”

“And what are the other steps?”

“Go pick a fight and beat the shit out of a bunch of bad guys?”

“ _Bucky_ …”

“I’m fine. I swear. One of them got in a lucky hit. Nothing’s broken.” _Anymore…_

Grant heaves a sigh. “Are you _sure_ you’re not injured?”

“I’m not. Scout’s honor.”

Grant snorts. “Sure.”

“Baby, I swear. I’m good. I don’t have a gym in my apartment, in case you missed that in your terrible sweep. So I found another way, and I promise, they really were bad guys.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” he says, softly. “That you needed to go out and do that. Maybe…maybe next time you feel like that you tell me, and you can beat me up instead of some random guys?”

“We’ll see. Depends on how much I want to knock your head off.”

Grant laughs lightly, and the feel of the conversation shifts again. Bucky stays silent, waiting.

“So where does this leave us?” Grant finally asks.

Bucky sighs. “Well, I’m not going to tell you to come get your shirts back or anything. But if we’re going to shift toward an actual relationship instead of just heat or rut partners, you should be aware that I’ll probably make this difficult every step of the way. And not always on purpose.”

“Still haven’t learned about issuing me challenges, huh?”

“Never,” he says with a smile. “But…I’m willing to learn to _not_ be difficult. For _you_.”

“Just for me?”

“Only for you.”


	11. Chapter 11

A few days later, Bucky opens his door to a beautiful dark-skinned Alpha named Sam and another man, fair-skinned and non-des by his scent, named Scott. 

“Bucky? Hi! Grant sent us. We’ve got something for you. From him. From Grant.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “He knows that, Scott. Grant told him we were coming. Otherwise you’d have a gun pointed at your head right now.”

“What? No. You don’t have a gun, do you?”

“No.”

“See, Sam?”

“Not in my hand, at least. But there’s about a dozen of them in the apartment. Not all of them secured.”

Scott’s eyes go wide in shock, and Sam laughs.

“I can see why he likes you. May we come in? Or do you want to lug this in and set it up yourself? It’s up to you. We’re cool with either one.”

And—damn it’s nice that Sam put it that way, and he’s sure that Grant told them to, but still…

The men step aside to reveal a very long, slender box, the kind you’d get when you buy a bookshelf that you have to assemble yourself. Except there’s no picture on the box, and Bucky doesn’t need a bookshelf. And it’s a bit thicker than what would hold several pieces of wood.

“Did he tell you what it is? I have no idea what he sent. I don’t know if I’m going to need help or not.”

Sam’s eyes take on a very amused gleam, and he smiles wide.

“A bed.”

Despite himself, Bucky feels his cheeks warm as he blushes. 

“ _Fucking jerk,”_ he mutters under his breath. “Yeah, okay, bring it in.”

“You want help?” Scott asks.

“Are there instructions?”

“Our instructions are to offer you help, and if you decline it, to leave you the tools and be on our way.” Sam hefts a medium-sized tool box. “He wasn’t sure what you’d have on hand, so this is everything you need.” 

“He’s probably hoping I say no, so that he’s got an excuse to come by sooner and pick up the tools.”

Sam chuckles. “Oh god, I hope you stick around. It’ll be good to see someone give him a run for his money.”

“Yeah, he seems like he needs someone to keep him in line.”

“I gotta tell ya, man, I don’t know how all this stuff works, but I’ve never seen Cap happier than since he’s started seeing you.”

Sam reaches over and smacks Scott across the back of the head, and if looks could kill, Bucky is pretty sure that Scott would be dead.

“Ow! What? Oh—oh shit. Right.”

Bucky eyes the two men now standing in his living room and quickly assesses the interaction.

“So, do you want help?” Sam asks.

Bucky eyes Scott as he considers.

“It’s tempting to say yes, and see what else Scott lets slip that he’s not supposed to say, but I think I’ll take pity on him and let you guys go. I’m pretty sure I can figure it out. But thank you for the offer.”

The visible relief on Scott’s face is downright comical, and Sam studies Bucky curiously.

“Yeah, you need to stay. Let me know if Grant fucks up again and I’ll set him straight for ya,” Sam says, nodding, a smirk on his face.

“Will do,” Bucky answers, laughing himself. “Thanks for hauling this up the stairs.”

“No problem, man. I’m always happy to help Grant. He never asks for anything, so you know it’s big if he does.”

Bucky feels the air leave his lungs and forgets to re-inflate them for a moment. If he’s judged Sam correctly already—and he’s pretty sure he has—then for him to come out and say something like that, it’s a calculated reveal. 

“Understood. Th—thank you,” he stammers.

Sam only nods, one corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smile. 

“C’mon, Scott. Time to go.”

The two men leave and Bucky sits on the couch, staring at the giant box for a moment.

_ A bed? Really???  _

Grant sends back the laughing-so-hard-I’m-crying emoji.

_ Well, you may have enjoyed that incident, but it was rather uncomfortable for me. I have a friend who is skilled with metals, and he reinforced a new frame for me. Do you like it? _

Bucky sends a picture of the box taking up half his floor space. _I haven’t opened it yet. Didn’t want to give away some of my hiding spots to Sam so I sent them away. Gotta rearrange so I have room to get it together._

_ If you want help… ;) _

After their late-night phone call, they’d made plans for dinner that Friday and then spent a cautious two days texting. It was only late the previous night that Bucky had started with the suggestive texts again, so he was happy to see Grant teasing him. 

_ Lol! I can manage, I’m sure. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night? _

_ Absolutely! Are you sure you don’t need me to bring anything?  _

_ No, it’s my turn to do something for you.  _

_ Okay, sweetheart. _

Bucky had spent the entire previous day making the cookies after trekking to the other end of Manhattan to the Russian grocery store for the key ingredient—they were absolutely worth the effort, but tasted best after sitting in the fridge for a day or two. And if something came up, they could be frozen if needed (assuming he didn’t eat them all first). This morning he'd gone to the store to buy the ingredients for the meal he planned to make.

_ Got a couple meetings and a training session this afternoon, I’ll text you later, okay? _

_ Sounds good. Try not to have too much fun :)  _

***

_ What the fuck I should have let Sam stay to help me this is ridiculous _

_ *** _

_ Jesus. Okay. Done. You owe me something for having to put this together. _

Bucky attaches a picture of him lying on the bed, finally all put together and remade after he spent far too long figuring out the connections and reinforcing supports.

_ If you remember, Scott and Sam offered to help. Scott has a degree in engineering and Sam is quite skilled as well. This was your doing,  _ Grant replies.

_ Fuck you _

_ Gladly. That’s what the bed is for. _

_ I should have saved it for tomorrow, made you help me with it. _

_ I can come help test it now? _

Bucky laughs.

_ Nope. You have to wait now. And bring me ice cream. Oh, and thanks for the built-in hiding spots. Gonna fill the one on your side of the bed with knives so keep your hands out of it. _

_ Good to know. Thanks for the warning. Any particular flavor? _

***

Bucky is just getting the dishes cleaned up while dinner is in the oven when Grant arrives. He purses his lips and narrows his eyes, giving Grant the once-over. After all, it’s been two weeks since they’ve seen each other.

“You shaved,” he states flatly, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and returning to the kitchen, followed by the sound of Grant’s soft chuckle.

“Just put the ice cream in the freezer for now. You can help me set the table. Can you grab the salad from the fridge please?”

“Of course. It smells delicious, what are you making?” Grant picks up the box of Hamburger Helper on the counter and gives Bucky an incredulous look, eyebrows all but disappearing into his hairline.

Bucky struggles to keep a straight face. “Well, I thought maybe in honor of you turning Brock’s face into hamburger…” He cracks up, can’t hold it in. “I’m teasing. Slightly. I _did_ make something using ground beef though.” 

Grant is shaking his head in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

The sigh that comes from Grant is resigned, as if he’s accepting that he’s chosen to date someone who is a gigantic smartass.

“Okay, so what is it _really?”_

“I spent a good deal of time in Romania for an assignment. Most people only know of Moussaka as a Greek dish, but it is hugely popular in Romania as well. There is a large Ottoman influence on Romanian cuisine. This became one of my favorite dishes, and I still make it regularly. It’s a good comfort food, easy to make and filling, with layers of potato and meat.” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go out of your way for me to make something difficult. Or something sodium-laden,” he adds, eyeing the box in disdain.

“No I saved that for dessert.”

“What?”

Bucky laughs as he pulls a cookie from the platter and feeds it to Grant.

“The complicated part. These literally take all day to make. Also from Romania. Shortbread pastries, cookies really, with a buttercream and plum jelly filling. They should sit for two days before you eat them.” 

Glaze from the top of the cookie sticks to Bucky’s finger and Grant pulls it into his mouth, sucks it clean. 

“I’ll have to make sure I show my appreciation appropriately, then.” Grant’s voice is husky, his gaze heavy as Bucky feels himself start to go limp in Grant’s arms. 

“If you make me burn dinner then I will _absolutely_ take you up on that offer to beat you up.” Even as breathy as his voice is, he still manages to make it mostly sound like a threat. Grant grins.

“ _Mmm,_ do you promise?” he teases, nuzzling Bucky’s neck.

“ _Grant.”_

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’d rather save you for dessert, anyway.”

“ _Jesus,”_ Bucky gasps, pushing himself away from Grant. “It was your idea to slow down, remember?”

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting that to mean a home-cooked meal. I would have been perfectly content to take you out to dinner instead.”

“Yeah, see, and then you’d be spending even more money on me. So let me do this for you and try to keep it in your pants at least until after dinner, okay? Here, drink this. It’ll distract you.”

“Why, what is it?” Grant asks, and takes a mouthful of the drink Bucky hands him. “Holy fucking _hell_ what _is_ this?” He’s coughing and gasping, and Bucky starts laughing.

“You’re not supposed to _chug_ it, genius! It’s _Slivovitz_. Basically, plum brandy.”

“Also Romanian, I’m guessing? Jesus that burns a bit!”

“Yes, also Romanian. I really liked it there, wish I had been there under better circumstances. But I love _sliv_. I just hate drinking alone, so I don’t drink it very often. You’ll get used to the taste. Or you won’t, and I’ll drink it, and you can have something else,” he adds with a shrug. “But you drink some before dinner, and if you feel so inclined, after as well.”

“Are you sure it’s not paint thinner?” 

“Oh my god, you fucking _wimp_!” Bucky takes the two steps across the kitchen to pluck the glass from Grant’s hand and downs it in one go, with only a slight wince, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “Help yourself to the fridge, and whatever you find that is more _palatable_ for you.” 

***

After they’ve eaten and cleaned up, Bucky takes the plate of _Pisochnye Pirozhnue_ and his bottle of _slivovitz_ to the couch. Grant joins him with the whisky he’d grabbed. They’re at opposite ends, but the couch is small and there’s only one space between them. Bucky turns so he’s leaning back against the arm, one leg drawn up onto the couch, and Grant mirrors him. 

“So, Sam and Scott work with you also?” 

Grant tips his head to the side. “More or less. I’m not really their boss or anything, not like with Brock.”

“Mmm, but Scott called you _Cap_ , and that tends to speak of someone in charge.”

Grant chokes lightly on his drink, and Bucky smiles into his. Their conversation during dinner had stayed safe, Bucky giving half-true answers and stories about his previous employment, and honest, sometimes painful answers about his youth. Grant seemed to be playing the same dance—disclose what you can, blur the lines on what you can’t.

“Might I suggest not using him on contracts that require subterfuge?”

Grant laughs. “Yeah, that’s really not any news. I should have known better. Sam likes you, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? And did I pass a test?” He unfolds himself and takes a cookie from the plate.

“Hm. I suppose so. Although it wasn’t intended as such. These are really good. I must say, I’m quite impressed with your skills. God knows I can’t cook that well. And I certainly can’t bake.”

Bucky’s cheeks heat, and it’s only partly due to the blush of the compliment. He’s had a bit more to drink than he usually does, and the _sliv_ is fucking 100-proof hell liquor, so he’s much tipsier than he normally gets. 

“Perhaps you should have another one then.” Bucky drains his glass and sets it down as he reaches for another pastry. Holding it gently in his teeth, he leans into Grant, hands on his thighs, and brings their faces together. Grant seals his lips over Bucky’s and bites off half the cookie. Bucky pulls back slightly, never breaking eye contact, as they each eat their half. 

Grant’s hand cups the side of Bucky’s neck lightly, fingers threading through his hair. 

“Taste even better that way.”

“That’s just because I’m drinking the _real_ drink that goes with it,” he whispers, and brings their mouths together again. Grant inhales sharply, and Bucky uses that opportunity to climb fully onto his lap. 

The maneuver had come to him naturally, flirtation and seduction with food one of the first lessons he’d learned, but it had never been accompanied by butterflies in his stomach, or desire pooling in his gut. Grant’s arms circle him, the hand on his neck shifting to cup the back of his head, the other wrapping around his lower back. Bucky rolls his hips, presses himself into Grant and teases his tongue along the whisky-tinged lips. Grant opens for him with a moan, and the hand in his hair tightens as he licks into the heat of Grant’s mouth. 

Eventually they part, gasping for breath, and Grant’s lips burn a trail along his neck.

“So much for slow,” he breathes, turning his face to catch Grant’s mouth again. 

“Are you kidding?” Grant asks when they part again. “The last two times we were alone together, we were naked within ten minutes. This is positively glacial for us.”

Bucky laughs as Grant tugs his shirt over his head and then latches onto a nipple. “Grant,” he cries, arching into the touch. “Bed.”

Grant surges to his feet with a growl, hands firmly on Bucky’s ass. Bucky whimpers, feels a wave of slick soak his hole at the fucking _ease_ with which Grant lifts him from a seated position and then carries him across the room. 

“Wait,” he gasps, and Grant pauses, stands next to the bed holding him as though he weighs nothing. “Will you—can we—the wall?” Bucky stammers out, liquid courage fueling words that he’d never dare ask another Alpha. He tightens his hold on Grant’s shoulders and looks down at him bashfully. 

Grant raises a single eyebrow. “You don’t have a shirt on. Might get a bit uncomfortable. Leave a mark or two.”

“It’s already scarred,” Bucky shrugs. “I…I’ve never…and you seem capable—” his words are cut off as his back slams against the wall and Grant’s mouth slams over his.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?” 

“Maybe?”

Grant holds him with one arm, and uses his upper body to hold Bucky in place while he undoes his pants and shimmies out of them. His hand goes to Bucky’s pants next, and he steps back enough for Bucky to arch away from the wall, his shoulders and Grant’s hands on his thighs the only thing keeping him from falling. Somehow, Bucky manages to free his legs without just ripping his pants off or crashing to the floor. Grant presses back into him, the hot length of his cock rubbing against Bucky’s as their mouths meet.

“I could spend the whole night kissing you,” he whispers between kisses.

“Can’t you kiss and fuck at the same time? I’m pretty sure we’ll need something to do while your knot—oh, Jesus, you…fuck, you’re so strong…” Bucky’s words turn to babbling nonsense as Grant raises him higher and takes all of Bucky’s weight on one arm, and with the other spreads Bucky’s cheeks wide so he can rub his cock along Bucky’s steadily leaking hole. He’s never been more turned on in his life, and the amount of slick his body is producing would be embarrassing if he cared enough to think about it.

“Fuck, sweetheart, look how wet and loose you are for me. So sweet. So good to me.”

Bucky keens as Grant’s cock breaches him, sliding in slow and easy, Grant controlling Bucky’s body every inch of the way—which is helpful, because Bucky has gone boneless at the casual show of Grant’s strength. He doesn’t know where the man is hiding it, because he doesn’t have Hulk-sized muscles, but holy fuck he doesn’t care, either, if it means he gets this controlled display of dominance. 

And that’s what’s so fucking hot about it—Grant’s fucking _control_. He could clearly have his way with Bucky, but instead, he’s doing _this—_ driving Bucky wild by taking his goddamned time, treating Bucky as though he weighs nothing, like he could—

“—do this all night, sweetheart. Hold you against this wall, give you everything you want, anything you want, you get so sweet on my cock, honey, sweet as sugar, taste just as good, feel so good—”

Bucky comes with a shout as his orgasm takes him by surprise. Grant groans and drags his tongue through what he can reach of the mess.

“Sweetest damned dessert I ever had, honey. Fuck you’re amazing. You ready now, sweetheart? You want me to knot you here? Or in the bed?”

Bucky drags enough brain cells together to pull his head off the wall and drive his tongue down Grant’s throat. 

“Here,” he breathes, both hands buried in Grant’s hair. “Show me.”

Grant growls as he bites Bucky’s jaw, buries his face in Bucky’s neck and nips at his scent gland.

“Jesus _fuck_ , baby, yeah, that’s it, fuck, yes, make me feel it, god I fucking _love_ your cock, fuck, yes, fill me, give me that knot, _fuck_ gonna make me come again baby, come on, god it’s so good…” 

For all the control he’d had at the start, Grant is fucking him with abandon now, chasing his orgasm and his knot with singular determination that is just short-circuiting Bucky’s brain. Words are falling from his lips almost as fast as Grant’s hips slam into him, and Bucky can’t comprehend the fact that he’d been holding back, is still holding him up, and somehow fucking him harder now than he’d been at the start, despite how long he’s been bearing Bucky’s weight.

Grant’s hands spread him wide, hold his ass so tightly that Bucky is sure he’ll have ten little bruises there in a few hours, while Grant drives him up the wall with each thrust. He can feel the tell-tale signs of Grant’s knot starting, as the pull on his rim gets tighter and longer each time Grant slides out and pushes back in.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes, c’mon, baby, wanna feel you fill me, give me that come, that knot, want it…”

Grant comes with a harsh cry and his teeth lock down onto Bucky’s shoulder as his knot grows, fills out the rest of the way, locking them together.

“Jesus Christ your fucking _mouth_ ,” Grant says, kissing over where he’d just bitten.

“You fucking love it.”

“Mmm, I do.” 

“What do you say, big guy? You got enough reserves left in the tank to carry me to the bed? Or are we gonna just slide down to the floor until your knot goes?”

Grant smirks and steps away from the wall. Bucky scrambles to wrap his arms around his neck to avoid falling while Grant just _stands_ there holding him on his cock. 

“Couch? Bed? Floor? Where you wanna go, sweetheart?”

“Jesus _fuck_ where have you been all my life?”

Grant throws his head back with a laugh.

“Take me to bed, baby, and fuck me til one of us passes out.”


	12. Chapter 12

Steve wakes to find Bucky plastered to his side, draped over him with a leg thrown between Steve’s and an arm over his chest. While he’s certainly not uncomfortable, he’s not sure how long he can stay there, stuck with the thoughts in his head, before he’s likely to grow anxious and his scent change wakes Bucky.

This was not how the night had been supposed to go.

Granted, he’s not complaining about spending the night fucking Bucky senseless—and _God,_ it had just done things to see the man fall apart so sweetly for him, outside of a heat, and see that he wanted Steve as much as he did regardless of his cycle.

But that was the problem.

Bucky wants _Grant_.

Steve had intended to tell Bucky the truth after dinner. They’d been comfortable, at ease with each other, the prettiest flush dusting Bucky’s cheeks from the drinks—and then the next thing he knew, he had a lap full of Omega and a mouth full of Bucky’s tongue.

It was the kiss that had done him in.

Steve had been fighting that urge from their very first meeting. With their eyes closed and Bucky begging for Steve to pin him down, it had been easy to forget it wasn’t _his_ face that Bucky was looking at from under those long lashes.

Steve takes a deep breath and runs his free hand through his hair.

“Why are you so tense?” Bucky asks, voice rough with sleep. His hold on Steve tightens and he presses a kiss to Steve’s chest.

“Don’t want to go,” he murmurs, kissing the top of Bucky’s head.

“So stay,” Bucky says, like it’s that simple.

Steve laughs lightly and tugs on Bucky’s arm. Bucky gets the hint and pushes himself up so he’s lying on top of Steve.

“I can’t. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night before you shoved your tongue down my throat—”

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

“I’m not complaining. But I’ve got a contract. Fell into my lap at the last minute yesterday. Really hush-hush. I have to leave tonight. Could be a week, maybe a little bit longer. And I won’t be able to have my phone. Very high security, high profile, super tight regs.”

Steve was _not_ looking forward to a week or more of undercover work to find a way to infiltrate an AIM compound. But since the whole fucking team now knew he was so comfortable wearing the nano mask, and he was a lot more stable now that he was seeing Bucky, he hadn’t been able to get out of it. He’ll be with Nat and Clint, which is the most ideal grouping for this task, but still…

On his chest, Bucky pouts up at him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, thumbing over that plump bottom lip. Bucky nips at him, grins around the tip of the thumb stuck between his teeth.

“So how long do we have?” he asks.

Steve slides his hand around the back of Bucky’s head and pulls him up, uncaring of the morning breath, and licks into his mouth.

“Long enough.”

***

Two hours later, Steve finally tears himself from Bucky’s bed.

“Call me,” Bucky says between kisses at the door. “As soon as you can. I don’t care what time it is.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too. No more bruised ribs, okay? I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone.” He buries his face in Bucky’s neck, kissing and nipping at his scent gland, burning the scent of his happy-fucked-out-sweet Omega into his brain.

“Promise,” Bucky breathes, clutching tight to Steve’s jacket. The day had warmed considerably from the night before, and he’s already hot in it, but he was leaving yet another of his shirts with Bucky. _(“But baby, this one is_ fresh _. You’re going to be gone for so long. And I won’t even be able to text you. Please?” As if Steve stood a chance against those puppy-dog eyes and pouty lip.)_

“Go, before I tie you to the bed and keep you here.” Bucky presses one final, close-lipped kiss against Steve’s mouth before pushing him gently away.

“That sounds like far more fun.”

Bucky’s laugh follows him down the stairs.

***

Steve stops at the little corner store to arrange for a few deliveries while he’s gone. The old man smiles up at him when he comes in.

“Ah! He is back! You make Bucky very happy. This makes me happy. Bucky is very special to us. He is a good boy.”

Steve feels himself blush. “Thank you, sir. He absolutely is special, I know. I am lucky to have found him.”

“Not many Alphas who accept him the way he is. Tell him he is—flawed. A _freak_.”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with him,” he says, and has to stop to pull the growl from his voice. “There is nothing wrong with Bucky,” he repeats in a calmer tone than he feels. “And anyone who thinks there is can go fuck themselves, if you’ll excuse my language, sir.” Steve blows out a hard breath. “I know we only just started seeing each other, but I can’t imagine myself with anyone else and I want to make him my mate. I also know he’s not ready to hear me talk like that. So for now, I can only show him by treating him the way he’s always deserved to be treated. Which is why I’m here. I have to go out of town for a little while, and I was hoping you could help me.”

“Of course! What do you need? I help him to wake and see. He thinks he’s not fit to be mated. You and I, we show him.”

Fifteen minutes later, he’s set up an account with a generous amount of money in it to cover Bucky’s purchases while he’s gone. He’s also scheduled delivery every few days of something special—pastries, snacks, drinks that he knows Bucky likes.

“You take good care of him. He will see. And if not, I smack him for you.”

Steve laughs as he puts his wallet away. “Thank you sir. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

The old man shakes his head and waves his hand.

“No. No _sir_. You are Bucky’s man. You can call me _Nonni’_ like he does.”

“What the hell? I’ve known you my whole life and you don’t let me call you that! That’s bullshit! Just because he’s fucking Bucky?”

Steve turns his head to see a young man, no more than eighteen, with name brand clothes, flashy jewelry, and tattoos standing a few feet away, looking affronted.

Nonni’ looks at him as well, and his demeanor shifts. Steve can see the softness around his eyes grow hard.

“You do not get to call me that because you are _un delinquente_ who has no respect and thinks he knows everything. Your _madre_ raised you better than that. You dishonor her. You have not _earned_ the right to my favor. And you have not earned the right to call Shawn that, either. You better not let him hear it. He won’t go so easy on you next time he catches you and your _idiota_ friends up to no good.”

Steve really, really wants to know more about Nonni’, as he watches the teen deflate, looking thoroughly chastised.

“Sorry, sir,” the kid mumbles.

“Now, you go. I will make sure Bucky gets your gifts.” Nonni’ pats Steve on the cheek with a smile. “You have a good trip. Here. You take some cannoli with you. My treat.”

***

Steve has sand in places he never wants to have it again. He doesn’t understand how Nat is so goddamned _calm_ about it all. He needs an hour-long shower and he needs Bucky. It’s been ten days since he’s seen or talked to him. But he knows he’s not going to get either of those any time soon, so as much as he wants to, he doesn’t text Bucky to let him know that he’s on his way back to the states. There’s intel to be filed, prisoners to be processed, and a debrief to be done.

“Where are you going?” he asks when they land and he sees Brock and the STRIKE team heading for a Quinjet.

“Hell’s Kitchen,” Brock sneers.

Steve stops short. “What? Why?”

“There’s a situation. That horned freak is there, but there’s too many of those ninja guys. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. We don’t need the big guns. STRIKE can handle this.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Brock heaves an offended sigh. “They’re not even anywhere near his apartment, oh my _god_.”

Steve ignores him and stalks onto the jet.

“Don’t worry Steve, I’ll handle this!” Natasha yells after him, and he hears the sarcasm and annoyance in her voice.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. He’d rather be _anywhere_ than processing all the intel. And if something was happening near Bucky’s place, that’s where he would be.

“Damn right you will!”

It only takes a few minutes for them to make the short trip from headquarters to the city. They land down the block from the ruined building that seems to be the source of the steady stream of red-robed Hand soldiers. He catches a glimpse of Daredevil as he jumps from the top of a dumpster, kicks off the side of a building, and lands in the middle of a group of soldiers with a long sword in each of his hands. But the image that makes him stop dead in his tracks as the STRIKE team fans out to form a perimeter is the man stalking down the street.

At first glance, he’d have thought the man was The Punisher, someone he knows that Daredevil has teamed up with in the past. Except this man has long brown hair, not a military cut. And unlike Punisher, his face is obscured by goggles and a mask. He’s similarly clad in black tactical gear, with guns strapped to his thighs and waist, and evidence of more on his back based on the holster straps. The man is a walking arsenal and Steve is both in awe and dumbfounded to see him.

Steve watches the man strut with deadly grace, every move precise and controlled. He calmly switches out the clip on the large rifle in his hand and raises it, aims as he’s walking, dropping soldiers quickly and efficiently with a single head shot.

“Boss? What do we do about this guy?” he hears Rollins ask in his ear.

“Isn’t that…?” asks someone else.

“I…fuck, I don’t know. Let him help for now, but the second we have the advantage, take him in. Focus on the Hand and Bullseye first.”

_What the_ fuck _is Daredevil doing working with the Winter Soldier?_ Steve wonders as he advances on a group of Hand soldiers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok seriously, I updated the tags...I PROMISE this will all end happily!!! there is about 4k coming tomorrow because there just was no good place to break up the next chapter to put any of it with this. but I won't make you wait and there will be another chapter tomorrow for sure!
> 
> that being said...  
> 

“Do we need to have a discussion about the friends you’re keeping?” Steve asks, finally drawing alongside Daredevil.

“No more so than I might ask you, I think.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Steve smashes another Hand soldier in the face with his shield before it can get to Daredevil.

“Thanks.” Daredevil flings his baton out, tripping up two more would-be attackers. “I’m just saying,” he continues, as if they’d never been interrupted. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

“I know who _that_ is,” he says, pointing across the street to the man currently shooting his way with deadly precision—each shot a head shot, no wasted movements or ammo—through the throng of Hand soldiers surrounding him.

Daredevil’s laugh surprises him.

“Oh, Captain Rogers, you really, _really_ don’t.”

Daredevil breaks away from him, and they advance on Bullseye’s location through the never-ending barrage of gunfire and attacking Hand soldiers. Steve keeps one eye on the Winter Soldier as he moves along with them. He’s never seen the man fight, only seen shitty surveillance photos and video, but there’s no mistaking. He moves with a fluidity that’s contradictory to his size and bulk. For just a moment, they’re close enough that Steve can see his face, or at least what’s visible above the mask—at some point he lost the goggles he’d been wearing when they’d arrived. Steve swears he’s losing his mind when the Soldier’s eyes remind him of Bucky’s, and he tells himself that it’s only due to their proximity to Bucky’s apartment. The Soldier wants no part of being near him, though, because the second he gets a chance, the man peels off again as Steve and the STRIKE team draw closer to where Bullseye has taken shelter. 

Bullseye stands, throws an object over their heads, and a sudden explosion rocks the buildings to their left. Steve ducks under the shield to avoid falling debris. 

_ “Bucky!”  _ he hears Daredevil cry, and Steve’s head spins wildly, looking for the Omega, praying that he hasn’t been caught up in the collateral damage. The STRIKE team surrounds Bullseye’s location as Daredevil scrambles towards the Winter Soldier’s prone body, trapped under a pile of rubble from the newly fallen building.

_ “Captain! Help!” _

Steve looks back and forth between Bullseye and Daredevil. He’s a little more interested in taking Bullseye alive to figure out what the fuck he’s doing working with the Hand than he is in worrying about if the HYDRA assassin has been wounded or perhaps killed. Yeah, he’d be a hell of a trophy caught alive, but he doesn’t look to be going anywhere, and Steve’s pretty sure that he’s got time to secure Bullseye before he worries about the Soldier. And he’s still looking for Bucky, since the Devil called for him.

“Devil! Get this fucking thing _off_ me before I lose my fucking leg!”

Steve stops dead. There’s no way.

That voice did _not_ come from the Soldier.

_ “Steve!” _ Daredevil’s slap breaks Steve from his stupor and he finds the man right up in his face. “You listen to me carefully, because I’m not going to repeat this and I’m not going to say this any louder. As a matter of fact, turn your fucking comm device off.”

In a daze, he taps his ear, disables the comm, and stares off at the figure behind the Devil.

“You can save him right now, keep him from being captured, and only you and I will know who he is. Or you leave him to _suffer_ under that building and then receive _inadequate_ medical care while he’s _held indefinitely_ in a SHIELD facility, and you’ll never get the chance to explain anything to him and never get to touch him again.”

It takes not even a second for Steve to process all of that before he’s running for the Soldier and ripping chunks of concrete away.

“Fuck you, asshole, we _had_ this! This is your fault!”

And somehow, inexplicably, that’s Bucky’s voice cursing him out, and Bucky’s _face_ that had been hidden by the black mask which has been knocked off. He doesn’t know why he can’t smell him, but there’s no mistaking the man glaring at him with death in his eyes.

“Bucky! Bucky, I’m sorry! I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m going to get you out of there, hang on.”

He sees the confusion on Bucky’s face as he tries to piece the voice with his face, watches him take in Steve’s body and the uniform. Bucky sucks in a deep breath and Steve realizes, he hasn’t taken his blockers in over twenty-four hours, and he’s not wearing his cowl and helmet, so there’s no extra filter blocking his scent. 

“Wha— _Grant?_ How? Oh my god. You fuck. You giant fucking asshole. _Grant Stevens? Steven Grant Rogers._ Jesus Christ. You fucking _lied_ to me!”

“Oh and clearly I was the only one withholding information?”

“Motherfucker I am going to fucking _shoot_ you! Everything about this _entire_ situation is your fault! Everything about _me_ is your goddamned fault!”

Steve gets the last slab of concrete lifted and Bucky scrambles out and _stands next to Daredevil_. Steve’s jaw clenches. This is not the time or the place, though, for this discussion. 

“Get the fuck out of here before anyone _else,”_ Steve says with a flick of his eyes towards the STRIKE team, “sees you and figures it out.”

Bucky pulls a ski mask from a pocket and yanks it over his face.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m fucking gone. Here, I’ll even help with your excuses for me getting away. Devil, I’m so sorry about this,” Bucky says, and then clocks Daredevil square in the jaw, knocking the man out before he whirls on Steve, gun drawn. “Don’t worry, _baby_ , I won’t hit anything _vital_. You heal fast, right?” And before Steve can say anything, Bucky shoots him in the torso, off to the side, and then immediately following that, in the thigh. 

Steve cries out and grabs his leg.

“Cap!” he hears Rumlow call out, and Bucky raises his gun as he whirls on Brock and fires. Steve turns his head in time to see Brock hit the ground, and when he looks back, Bucky is gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one of making everything better!!! next chapter will be up in a few days as per the usual :)

Bucky tumbles through the window of his apartment and falls to the floor. He cries out weakly at the flare of pain from his leg. He’s having trouble breathing, and ripping his gear off doesn’t help much. _Fuck. Re-broke those ribs when the building fell._ He’d been trying to get a clear shot at Bullseye, hoped that he could get above him and snipe down in to his little hiding spot. But he must have seen Bucky slip into the building. Either that or it was just one hell of a coincidence that the man had chosen to blow that particular building as a distraction.

He's aware of things starting to grow fuzzy around the edges, and knows he’s going to pass out soon. Now that the adrenaline and anger have worn off, he’s painfully aware of his injuries, the least of which are the broken ribs. He can feel the uncomfortable wetness of his pant leg sticking to him and knows there’s a bad cut there. He forces himself up to sitting, and checks, sees that the blood flow has slowed. Still, he yanks off his t-shirt and ties it tightly over the wound. The next order of business is to pop his kneecap back into place, which he does while biting down on his belt to stifle his cries. Panting, he pushes himself backwards until he’s leaning against the bed and lets his head fall back to rest. Gun in hand, he closes his eyes.

***

The feel of smoothly calloused fingertips on his skin wakes him, and he’s got the gun cocked and at Matt’s head in the span of a heartbeat. Matt must have registered the movement a split second before he made it, however, because he’s got his hands up and has moved back by the time Bucky has drawn the gun level.

“I’m here to help.” Matt doesn’t move, stays crouched in position next to Bucky’s injured leg. Bucky notices that he’s still in his Daredevil gear, though it has grown dark outside.

“Are you? And who exactly are you helping?”

“You.”

“Not him.”

“No.”

“But you knew all along.”

Matt sighs and shifts so that he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“I thought you knew by now. Considering how… _intense_ …things have gotten between you two.”

Bucky sighs himself, and is happy to note that he can take a deep breath with only minimal pain.

“I really didn’t. I had a feeling he wasn’t telling me _something,_ but I had no idea it was _that_.” He still hasn’t had time to process all the ramifications of Grant Stevens actually being Steve Rogers.

“He recognized you,” Matt says with a wave of his arm, indicating Bucky’s Soldier gear.

“I’d be more concerned if he didn’t. He’s not stupid. Has he been around?”

“No. The STRIKE team finally got Bullseye, and the Hand vanished as quickly as they’d appeared after that. I still don’t know why they were working with him. I mean, he’s just plain crazy, and they’re bent on world domination, so who the fuck knows. But you _did_ shoot Captain America and the other guy after you clocked me.”

“Is that a federal offense? I mean, not that it matters, at this point.”

Matt huffs out a laugh. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I tried not to knock you out. Didn’t want them to take your mask off. Even if I wasn’t sure if you were on my side or not.”

“Understandable. You didn’t. I appreciate you pulling your punch. And I am definitely on your side.”

“Did Brock live?”

“The other guy? I don’t know.” Matt stretches his arm out, holds it silently over Bucky’s leg. “May I?”

“Yeah, whatever. How come you only want to feel me up when I’m injured?”

“Maybe I’ve got a pain kink.”

A startled laugh escapes Bucky. “I think you do.”

Matt grins as he trails his fingers first over Bucky’s leg and then up over his chest, splaying his warm palm over his ribs.

“Sending out some awful mixed signals here, Matty.” His brain knows that Matt is just checking his injuries, using his enhanced senses to make sure everything is healing, but still. It’s nice to be touched so gently by someone he can trust.

“That’s just because you’re horny. You’re two days out from your heat and you haven’t been fucked in…eleven days.”

“Four days out. And fuck you for reminding me.”

“Nope. Two.”

“Fuck. Can you keep him away if he shows up? I’m too hurt to go to ground right now if I’m that close. I don’t have a place set up.”

“I can’t camp out here twenty-four-seven, but yeah. I can keep an ear out.”

“Thanks. Wanna keep feeling me up and help me off the floor and out of this gear?”

***

Bucky moans and curls in on himself as another painful spasm wracks his abdomen. His hole clenches over nothing, his cock twitches without release.

He should have tried getting ahold of M’Baku. But the thought of anyone other than Grant—no, anyone other than _Steve-lying-fuck-Captain-America-fucking-Rogers_ —being inside him made him want to puke, and fuck if Bucky was going to give that asshole the satisfaction of a phone call.

The sound of someone banging on his door breaks him out of _not_ thinking about Steve.

“Brock if that’s you I swear to fucking _God_ I’ve got a loaded Sig next to me that I will fucking _empty_ into your thick skull. I told you no a week ago and the answer is still no today.”

“Bucky?” came the hesitant call, and _fuck,_ it’s _Steve_. He supposes he can’t be mad at Matt, after all, it’s been four days since he shot Steve and the man is just now showing up at his door. Like Matt had said, he couldn’t be here twenty-four-seven to play guard dog.

Bucky did _not_ whimper at the sound of his voice. He _didn’t_.

“Bucky, please let me in? I really need to talk to you.” He sounded pained, and _good_ , because _Bucky_ was in pain and it was all that fucker’s fault.

Bucky stares at the door, and his shitty tiny studio apartment never felt bigger.

_“Can’t,”_ he whispers, knowing that his fucking _supersoldier ears_ could hear him. “Just go. You’re making it worse.”

_“Bucky,”_ Steve growls, and the Alpha command in the one word was unmistakable. “Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Bucky, _please_ , I didn’t mean to do that, I swear, I can’t control it sometimes, I’m sorry.”

“Grant— _Steve_ —I _can’t._ Can’t move. Hurts,” he says, and he _doesn’t_ whine, he _doesn’t_ , no matter what it sounds like. He bites his bottom lip, hard, cuts himself off before he adds the _Alpha_ honorific at the end, because no matter what else, no matter how much he fights it or denies it, Steve is _his Alpha_ and he fucking _needs_ him but he _won’t_ give in like that. He’s not about to drag his naked ass across his apartment, in pain, to open the door because some fucking Alpha _commanded_ him to.

Especially some fucking _lying asshole Alpha._

Steve growls again, and there’s the sound of a fist meeting the wall next to his door with a curse.

And then he’s gone, and Bucky openly whines now, crying out at the loss of his Alpha (even if he’d basically told the man to leave him alone), in addition to the fresh wave of pain in his gut.

A few minutes later, he hears noise on the fire escape, and then his window is being opened.

“Oh, _sweetheart_. Honey, look at you. Please let me help?”

“ _Alpha_ ,” he begs, uncurling one arm from his stomach to reach for him as the title slips out anyway. “Grant, please.” 

“Bucky, what do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Just you,” he gasps, closing his eyes against another spasm.

“I’m here, honey. I’ve got you.”

Bucky feels warm skin against his. Grant—no, _Steve_ —has shed his shirt and climbed onto the bed, pants still on, to wrap himself around Bucky.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, kissing the top of Bucky’s head, despite the sweaty, greasy mess he is as they lay on their sides, facing each other, Bucky tucked into Steve’s large body.

“Alpha,” Bucky whines, burying his nose in the man’s neck. A pleased rumble vibrates through Steve’s chest and Bucky shudders as he begins to calm, wrapped in the comforting scent of _home_ and knowing that he’s made his Alpha happy.

“Why aren’t you using your toys, honey?”

“Tried. Not you,” he mumbles against Steve’s neck. “Couldn’t come,” he adds.

“When did it start?”

“Two days,” Bucky sniffles. Steve’s hand has been slowly stroking up and down his back, and the touch, combined with how calm Steve has remained, has helped, but the need to release is still overwhelming.

Steve makes a pained sound.

“I thought you said every _other_ month. What’s going on?”

“It’s every month. I…before you, I had two partners, alternating. Brock and someone else. Got rid of them after I met you. Thought I could ride it out…didn’t want— _don’t_ want—anyone else.”

“ _Bucky,”_ he breathes. “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me.” Gently, he tucks a finger under Bucky’s chin and lifts his head. “I need your permission to help you. Do you trust me? Do you want me to help you release?”

“Jesus, how are you so calm?” Bucky asks, half delirious at the control Steve is showing.

Steve huffs out a laugh.

“I was a Beta before the serum. Surprisingly, there’s only slight differences between the two, after the whole knot business. I have the ability to be an asshole Alpha, and the instincts, believe me, but the overall temperament of a Beta. But you didn’t answer my questions, sweetheart.”

Bucky tries to duck his face back to Steve’s neck, needing more of his scent, but Steve holds his chin firmly with only two fingers and _Jesus wept_ that makes Bucky weak.

“Please,” he begs, because fuck it, he’s willing to beg for Steve’s cock, he might as well admit it and own it. “Please, Alpha. _Steve._ Hurts so bad. Please make me come. Please knot me. I _need_ you. Help me.”

Steve’s eyes are nearly black, pupils so dilated that they encompass almost every bit of blue in those irises—and right, that was something else to get used to, blue instead of hazel. But with Bucky’s words, it’s as though a switch has been flipped in Steve, because Bucky no sooner finishes speaking and he’s on his back, Steve’s body hovering over his as he holds his jean-clad bottom half away from Bucky’s straining cock.

He lowers his head, and Bucky tips his chin up, expecting a kiss, but Steve’s face goes for his neck instead. Steve kisses and licks and bites his way toward Bucky’s claiming gland.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he says, before locking his lips over the gland and sucking. Bucky screams as the orgasm tears through him, white-hot and sharp. He feels like he’s been sliced open from the force of it, and it’s never-ending. Steve continues to suck at his gland until Bucky begins to tremble as the pressure in his balls and cock finally abates.

“Steve!” he cries, and since when had he become this whining, whimpering mess, clinging to an Alpha?

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I promise. Starting to feel better? You smell better now.”

Bucky nods, cups Steve’s jaw in one hand, and stares at those lips, all red and swollen from sucking at his neck.

“I know, honey. I see you looking.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand and turns his face into it, kisses his palm, and then trails his own fingers across Bucky’s lips. “But I want you clear-headed before I kiss you again, okay? Can you do that? Can you wait a bit for me?” He brushed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’ll go get something to help clean you up, honey. I’m not leaving, okay?”

Bucky nods mutely as Steve goes to the kitchen sink and comes back with two towels, one damp and one dry. He wipes the embarrassing amount of come from their stomachs—because Bucky had gotten some all over Steve, too—and returns with a glass of water.

“Here, sweetheart. Drink this. I want you to come at least one more time, and then we’ll get you showered and fed. After that, I’ll take you to bed. How does that sound?”

Bucky doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. He _doesn’t._ But damn, it feels so nice…

“Yes, Alpha. Thank you,” he hears himself saying.

Steve’s eyes flutter closed and a pained look comes across his face.

“Bucky, sweetheart, _honey_. I _love_ hearing you call me that. Believe me, I do. You have no idea how that makes me feel. But I swear, I’m gonna lose the last little bit of control I have over myself if you don’t stop until after you eat.”

Bucky flushes, cheeks burning, and this time he knows it has nothing to do with his hormones and his heat.

“Sorry,” he says, biting his bottom lip. “I—I’ve never actually _wanted_ to call someone that. You…you make me feel…like an Omega. And that’s…I’m not used to that. Not used to wanting to let go like that. Plus I’m still really pissed at you, so it’s all very confusing and conflicting.”

“Hmm. How about this. Would you feel better if you showered first? Do you need a little bit of space right now?”

Bucky chews his lip, not wanting to admit that Steve is right, and hating how accommodating and gentle Steve’s being. He glances away and gets up to light one of neutralizing candles. “I know you said I was starting to smell better, but there’s no way this place can smell good yet, even with you here,” he says, with an apologetic shrug. “I may have been sulking for a few days before my heat started, while my leg healed.”

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me.” Steve lightly grasps Bucky’s arms. “This is a lot. We have a bunch of shit to deal with, on top of your heat. I get it. So you go get cleaned up, take a minute to get yourself together, and I’ll take care of things out here. Then, when you’re ready, you make yourself a nice nest, because I think you need one, and we’ll go from there.”

Bucky casts an eye around the room.

“I…I don’t…I haven’t made a proper nest since I was in high school. I usually just cocoon myself in a blanket.”

“Oh, honey.” Steve pulls him in tight. “I’m going to get you _so many_ pillows and blankets. There won’t be a single hard surface in sight, you wait and see.”

Bucky laughs at the absurdity of it all, picturing himself, in this big body of his, surrounded by a mountain of blankets and pillows, in his little cave, with Steve’s even larger frame over his, bringing him pleasure. Suddenly it’s something he wants more than anything, and his laugh turns to a sharp inhale of breath.

“ _There_ you are. Your scent just went all happy. What are you thinking about?”

Bucky buries his face in Steve’s chest, mumbles his reply there.

“Say that again, sweetheart?” he laughs.

“Wanna fuck you in a nest,” he says, head turned to the side, refusing to meet Steve’s face.

“You want to share your nest with me?” he asks after a pause.

Bucky nods. “Don’t have enough stuff here though,” he grumbles. “Can’t make one big enough for us both.”

There’s another long pause where Bucky can feel Steve thinking, but neither of them move.

“I can…only if you want me to. I can have some here by the time we’re done eating. All our other issues aside, I want to take care of you, Bucky. And my instincts tell me that you haven’t had nearly enough soft things in your life for a very long time. I want to fix that. If you’ll let me.”

Bucky tightens his arms around Steve and steadfastly _refuses_ to cry.

“Okay,” he manages, with only a slight shakiness to his voice. “I’d like that.” He tips his face up and gives Steve a soft kiss on his chin. “Thank you…Alpha.”

Steve sucks in a deep breath and Bucky smiles knowingly as he steps away, heads for the shower. He’d heard that an Alpha could milk his claiming glands like that and cause what felt like a never-ending orgasm, but had never let someone near his glands like that. To call it intense was putting it mildly. But his heat had abated enough that he didn’t want to die any longer from it, so he’s certainly not going to complain. Under the spray, he can hear the deep cadence of Steve’s voice on the phone, and then his head is poking through the bathroom door to ask if he wanted Italian, Thai, or something else for dinner before he disappears and Bucky can hear him talking some more.

He scrubs his hair carefully, shampooing three times because honestly he’s not even sure when he showered last and yet Steve had _still_ held him without complaints, and shit that has to say something about har far gone the man is for him. When he finally exits the shower, he finds a pair of boxers and a t-shirt waiting for him. The shirt is the one Steve had been wearing when he’d arrived, just a plain light blue long sleeve, but the scent of him instantly comforts Bucky, especially because he can feel the tingling of his heat preparing to ramp up again. There’s a knock on the front door just as he finishes tying his damp hair back into a loose bun. Steve opens it, and the smell of Thai fills his nose as the giant order is spread out on the table.

Bucky is suitably impressed: in the extended amount of time he’s spent in the bathroom, Steve has changed the sheets, washed most of the dirty dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, and aired the place out by opening both windows wide and turning on the exhaust fan in the kitchen to pull the air through the small space.

The apartment looks and smells practically inhabitable again.

It feels good to have him here, know he’s taking care of Bucky, but only with Bucky’s permission. One of Bucky’s biggest fears had always been to find that one Alpha whose scent drove him wild, only for him to wind up being a gigantic douchebag who tried to control every aspect of Bucky’s life. Granted, the red-white-and-blue elephant was still in the room, but that could be dealt with later once his hormones weren’t quite so raging.

“Thank you, Steve,” he says quietly, stepping into his space and placing his hands on Steve’s biceps as his arms gently circle Bucky’s waist. “Still feels a little weird to call you that, though. Not going to lie.”

Steve makes a soft noise in agreement and kisses his forehead once more. “You can call me whatever you’d like, sweetheart. I understand. Do you…should I still call you ‘Bucky?’”

“Yeah. It’s actually my name. Well, my middle name. It’s what I prefer to be called. Short for Buchanan.”

“Thank you for trusting me with that. I’m sorry I didn’t deserve that trust when you gave it to me. Here, try this. It’s my favorite Thai place in the city. I promise I didn’t get anything too spicy.” Steve plucks some sort of fried appetizer from a container, dips it in sauce, and feeds it to Bucky.

Bucky moans. It’s only a mushroom, an oyster mushroom to be specific, but the breading was delicate and airy, and the sauce a perfect combination of sweet and spicy.

“Oh my _god_. I could make a meal just on those. Holy shit.”

Steve grins, almost preening at Bucky’s pleasure. He hand-feeds Bucky a few more before they’re interrupted by Steve’s phone ringing.

“Oh good, that’s Clint. He must be here. Excuse me a second, sweetheart. Please, keep eating. I can tell you’ve barely had anything for days.”

It’s the closest Steve has come to ordering Bucky to do something, and he’d give him shit for it just on general principle, but the food is amazing and Steve has been amazing, taking care of him without question or hesitation, even though there is still so much that needs to be talked about between them.

He hears Steve returning with the mysterious Clint in tow, and briefly considers grabbing pants, but immediately dismisses that idea because it’s _his_ apartment, so fuck that.

“…but I told him that I’d be more scared of what she’d do him. So anyway, he’s so dumb that he just keeps egging her on, and it was so freaking hot, Steve, she took out _four_ of them before I remembered I was supposed to be helping, but we—oh, hey. I’m Clint. What, only one set of clothes between you? Him no shirt and now I gotta meet you with no pants on?”

“You got a problem with me not having pants on in my own apartment when I didn’t even know I was having guests?” Bucky leans back in his chair, manspreading as he does in a show of intimidation. He could smell immediately that the man either was on a shit-ton of suppressants, or he was a non-designation. Which, knowing Steve, the second was more likely, because he’d never bring another Alpha into Bucky’s den while he was in heat.

“Hey, no, we’re cool man,” Clint says, backing off, hands up in a defensive posture. “Personally I hate wearing pants too. Was just tryin’a make a joke,” he added. “I’ll just go get another box from the van.”

Steve’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

“Don’t open any of these yet, okay? There’s a couple more, and then you can after he goes. Oh, turn that fan off, okay? We need to keep the smells in now.” He winks at Bucky as he thunders down the stairs after Clint.

Bucky’s brows draw together in confusion, but he turns the fan off and closes the windows, popping another dumpling in his mouth as he pokes curiously at one of the boxes. Steve had brought three boxes in, one huge and two slightly smaller ones. Clint had also been carrying two large boxes. They all have the Stark logo emblazoned on the side. _That man has his name on everything_ , Bucky thinks with a roll of his eyes.

Steve returns with an absolutely _massive_ box that barely fits through the door and a duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Clint sets one last box down and looks around.

“Yeah, okay, I’m out of here. I know what’s coming next. Nice to meet you, Bucky. Hopefully I’ll get to meet you again, for real. Maybe with pants on next time.”

“Thanks for…whatever all this is. No promises on the pants.”

Steve is grinning like an idiot as Clint leaves and he locks the door behind his friend. It suddenly occurs to Bucky that he’s just met Hawkeye. And he seemed very… _normal_. And then he remembers Sam and Scott and…damn. That was lazy ass observations on his part there. He watches Steve very pointedly sit in the middle of the couch.

“So…?” Bucky asks, waving around the room with his chopsticks, as if that would explain his question to Steve. Which, yeah, it probably kind of did.

“One thing I love about ‘the future,’” Steve starts, complete with finger air quotes, and Bucky snorts around a mouthful of _Gai Ku-Ah,_ “is the ease with which I can accomplish something, between my ridiculous bank account and Tony’s resources. He and I didn’t always get along at first, but being friends with him has some serious perks.” He pauses, and looks around at the boxes, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Even from across the room, he can see Steve swallow and take a deep breath. “Although looking around, now, I hope I didn’t over-do it,” he added.

Bucky _hates_ that Steve’s sudden nervousness is so damned adorable. Mostly because he’s supposed to be mad at Steve still, somewhere, in some part of his brain that’s getting quieter and quieter.

“How about I start opening them and then I’ll let you know if it was too much?”

Steve nods, worrying his bottom lip as he watches Bucky get up from the table.

“When I was a kid, I always wanted to open the biggest presents first on Christmas. Because I knew they were the best ones. My parents always made me wait til last. So I think, I’m gonna open this one first.” He steps up to the largest box in the room. It’s roughly the size of an appliance box, like a stove or a dishwasher. The box is stuffed full, the tape barely holding the flaps shut. Bucky slides his finger under the edge of the lid, pops the tape off the end, and rips it back. The flaps fly open the moment they’re free, and Bucky is hit with a wall of concentrated Steve scent. A strangled whimper comes from his throat as he literally tears the box open and falls into the mountain of softness contained within.

“Steve!” he gasps, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he frantically pulls the comforter from the box. It’s huge, and half a brain cell is still functioning, because he wonders just how big Steve’s bed is as he surrounds himself in the multicolored print. He’ll figure out what the pattern is later. Right now—

“You are never getting this back,” he moans, burying his nose into the fabric.

“It’s not too much? You don’t have to keep them all, if you don’t want—”

_“Never,”_ he reiterates, shuffling across the floor on his knees to reach Steve. “Any of it. It’s _perfect_.” Bucky climbs up onto the couch and straddles Steve’s lap. He pulls the blanket up over his head, draping it around them and over the couch until only a small crack of light comes through from behind Steve’s head.

“Promised I’d take care of you. I know how soft my blankets and pillows are, and thought you’d like ones that didn’t have that brand-new smell.” Steve’s voice is rough, deep and pleased. Bucky can feel the Alpha rolling off of him now that he’s surrounded by his own scent and has a happy Omega plastered to his lap. The subtle shift has Bucky pressing himself even closer into Steve.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you. For everything today. It’s overwhelming in the best of ways.”

Steve’s hand cups the back of his neck, thumb stroking over his claiming gland and the mark he’d sucked there. A shiver runs through Bucky. He feels wetness begin to gather, the familiar clenching of his hole and the glands there as his body prepares itself for being taken, being offered up to his Alpha. His brain is starting to go fuzzy, already dropping into contentment at the thought. It strikes him, suddenly, how none of his previous partners had been able to drop him like this, yet Steve manages to with the lightest of touches.

“I’d do anything for you, Bucky.” Steve’s gaze is locked on Bucky’s neck as he speaks. “Besides, if this place smells strongly enough of me, anyone who might think to come looking for trouble will definitely think twice.”

Bucky huffs out a half-laugh. “Is this you staking your claim, or a ‘you can’t outright kill Brock but really want to’ thing?”

“Both,” Steve growls, and surges up, closes the distance between them, and slams his mouth into Bucky’s. The kiss is damn near feral for all of Steve’s intensity, teeth catching on Bucky’s bottom lip, tongue diving into Bucky’s mouth at his gasp, plundering and dominating, claiming, _owning_ Bucky in a way that he’d never thought he’d want.

“Alpha,” he whines, high-pitched, breathy, needy, as he grinds on Steve’s lap when they finally break to catch their breaths.

“Steve, _please_ , I need you. Get these fucking jeans off!” Bucky rises up onto his knees, gives Steve enough room to raise his hips and shove his pants down. He cups Steve’s face in his hands, leans down and licks into his mouth as he hears shoes and pants being kicked off and hitting the floor. With a growl—and _fuck_ , why does Bucky love it so much when Steve growls, yet hates it from literally every other Alpha he’s ever known?—Steve’s hands grip the fabric of Bucky’s boxer-briefs and tears them easily, ripping at them until the only thing left on Bucky is Steve’s shirt.

_“Fuck_ that was hot. Jesus. Get your— _oh!”_ His words are cut off as the head of Steve’s cock breaches his hole, the stretch of it burning slightly with no prep, but Bucky is wet enough between lust and his heat that Steve slides home easily.

“Fuck, Steve, god, _yes_ , so fucking good, so good Alpha,” Bucky babbles as he rocks his hips, clenching tightly, trying to encourage Steve’s knot to pop. He can feel the pressure there already, knows that Steve is on the edge, barely in control of himself, and he wants that fullness, wants to know he’s made his Alpha happy.

_“Mine,”_ Steve growls, hands firm on Bucky’s hips, holding him in place as he snaps his hips, driving himself into Bucky, and all Bucky can do is hang on, his own hands digging into the top of the couch while Steve takes what he wants. _“My_ Omega,” he snarls.

The declaration slams into him, as does Steve’s knot, and Bucky screams Steve’s name as he comes.


	15. Chapter 15

“I still haven’t committed to that yet,” he says some time later when he comes back to himself. His face is buried in Steve’s neck, nose pressed against his scent gland, breath as shaky as his body in the aftermath of the orgasm. An amused rumble vibrates in Steve’s chest.

“Your words and your actions are at odds, sweetheart.”

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you for lying to me like that.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, you made your anger pretty clear when you shot me.”

“You deserved it. Plus, I was giving you an alibi, asshole.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Bucky settles in to wait for Steve’s knot to go down, tucks the blanket around them and drops his arms to wrap around Steve’s waist. He knows that Steve is placating him, and is self-aware enough to acknowledge that he needs to be fucked through the remainder of his heat before he can think and talk rationally about their situation. If he lets the Omega-fueled side of his brain make the decisions right now, they’ll have more problems.

“You good like this?” he asks, only belatedly thinking to ask Steve if he’s comfortable.

“I’m good anywhere you want me to be, sweetheart,” he answers with a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “Whatever you need me to do.”

“Jesus, you can’t just _say_ things like that to me.”

“Why not?” Steve has one arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist, and the other moves in a lazy path up and down his side, petting him, keeping him in that calm headspace that overrides his higher brain functioning.

“Might make me think I’m worth something more’n I am. Make me think I’m more’n what they made me into.” He freezes the moment the words come out of his mouth.

Steve’s hand pauses, and Bucky can practically hear him thinking. “How much of my story do you know?”

The seemingly random question throws Bucky, but he answers.

“You joined the army, some special secret program, and you were enhanced. Killed a bunch of Nazis, crashed a plane, turned into a popsicle. They found the plane, you defrosted and said ‘I’m not dead yet, I’m starting to feel much better,’ and then killed some space whales and then more Nazis. Which, incidentally, is how _we_ ended up here. The more Nazis part, I mean. How’d I do on my history lesson, teach?”

Steve is shaking his head, grinning, eyes crinkled in amusement when Bucky chances a look up at him.

“Not too bad, actually. Hit the major points. But, do you remember earlier, when I first got here, that I said I’d been a Beta before the procedure?”

“Mmm, I thought I was hearing things. I was pretty out of it, honestly.”

“I was small for a Beta. Lots of people had expected me to present as an Omega. But it was precisely because I _wasn’t_ an Alpha that I was picked for the experimental procedure. It was…speculated…that I might come out different. Several of my personality traits and tendencies lent to me being an Alpha had my body been healthier.”

Bucky scoffs. “Jeez, can’t imagine what they mighta been seeing.”

Steve swats his ass playfully. Bucky hisses and clenches, which draws a groan from Steve.

“That was your fault.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, they were fine with the risk,” Steve continues. “But imagine my surprise the first time a rut hit. Of course, they couldn’t find any way to control it. It was… _I was_ a nightmare. I refused a service Omega, knew I’d hurt whoever they gave me. Plus, it was a pretty big secret that I wanted only men. Easy enough to hide when you’re a slim Beta, not so much when you’re the Star-Spangled Man. I…made do with a couple of male Betas who were willing. But I _hated_ my ruts. Then, when I came out of the ice, I wasn’t having them. I thought maybe all that time frozen had messed with my body, but I was absolutely fine with that.”

“Jesus,” Bucky says softly. “That sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Steve shrugs, not trying to downplay it. “But I was doing great things, during the war. I was happy to _not_ have them when I woke up. Everything else was saying I was still an Alpha, just no ruts. Then, after a couple years, bam! Had a rut. It was worse than I’d remembered. Dr. Banner managed to create a suppressant that helped to mitigate the worst of it. But there wasn’t anyone who I felt comfortable enough with to ask for help. And then…eventually I realized how very lonely I was. I have great friends, don’t get me wrong. But I was missing that deeper connection, missing having my Alpha nature fed. The other Avengers who have designations, they’re all very comfortable in who they are and what their roles are, all have partners or bonded mates. I was the odd man out. I talked with Sam about it, and he recommended the site.”

Bucky straightens up and stares at Steve, a sudden swell of sadness and sympathy for the Alpha clenching his heart.

“So what you’re telling me is, I became Captain America’s booty call because you were _lonely?_ Jesus Christ that is the most depressing thing I think I’ve ever heard. If Captain America is sad and lonely, what hope do the rest of us have? But also, perhaps more importantly, why did you not pick ‘mate’ instead of ‘heat/rut partner,’ given your celebrity status?”

“Thought it would be easier this way, since I had the mask to hide my face.”

“Well, that was a major miscalculation,” Bucky grunts.

“Hey, I never claimed to be good at math. Although I definitely am okay with getting this one wrong.”

“Ugh that’s disgustingly sappy. I hate you that it made me feel happy to hear it.” Bucky pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, some of the excess bunching up between them and giving him the semblance of space that he wanted, despite the dick still locked in his ass.

Steve only smiles and actually _helps_ him cocoon himself inside the blanket as much as possible. Asshole. His amusement grows the more Bucky’s scowl deepens, so Bucky clenches down hard and rocks his hips, tormenting Steve’s highly sensitive knot. Bucky _might_ know from experience how to make Steve come again just by rhythmically clenching and shifting over his knot as it starts to go down, _may_ have done it to him a few times during his rut.

Steve groans, drops his head back on the top of the couch as his hands clamp down on Bucky’s hips.

“Point taken, sweetheart. You’re not in the mood to be teased right now.”

Bucky maintains his scowl by sheer force of will as Steve kisses his forehead.

“I’m sorry, honey. But, there was a point to telling you all that. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m pretty happy with where my path has led me. I had my reasons for joining the army and letting them experiment on me. I can understand why someone in a rough spot might seize a chance at improving their life, even if there was the chance it could kill them.”

The way Steve looks at Bucky when he says it implies a certain meaning to his words, a certain level of knowledge that nobody should have, and Bucky feels his heart rate pick up a bit.

“You’ve made more than one reference to the fact that it’s my fault we ended up in this situation, and I wish I could say that I was sorry, but I’m not.”

Bucky is pretty sure that it’s only his extensive training that keeps him breathing, keeps his face mostly neutral.

“When we took down the Hydra headquarters a couple years ago, there were a lot of files to go through. Tons of information. One program in particular caught my attention, as you might imagine. Hard to believe there’s only one tiny, blurry picture of the single Omega to survive the program.”

“Get to your point.”

“I’m not as technologically savvy as Natasha or Tony, but I can manage. After that fight on the street, I pulled every file we had. Re-read everything. I know how they lied to you. Fed you false information. Skewed the facts on your missions. If you come back to the tower with me—”

Bucky scrambles off Steve’s lap, forces himself painfully off the knot, gets his legs tangled in the blanket, and falls to the floor in an utterly embarrassing flailing of limbs.

He’s proud of himself that when he rights himself mere seconds later, though, he’s got the gun he keeps taped to the underside of the couch in his hand and pointed at Steve, however shaky his arm may be.

“Be very careful of your next words, Steve. I _really_ don’t want to shoot you again. Because this time I’d have to actually hurt you. Please don’t make me. I will _not_ be taken in. Not after I’ve spent the last three years a free man.”

Very slowly, Steve settles back into the couch from his aborted attempt at helping Bucky up from the floor and places his hands palms down on the cushions next to his thighs. Bucky concentrates on his breathing, settling his rapid pulse and tamping down his Omega impulses against threatening his Alpha.

Steve, infuriatingly, remains calm, and his scent doesn’t even change, where Bucky is certain his has become distressed.

“Sweetheart—”

“No,” Bucky interrupts. “I’m not your sweetheart right now.”

“Fair enough.” Steve takes a breath, seems to gather his thoughts.

Bucky fights tears through his clenched jaw, adjusts his grip on the gun.

“Bucky…I said that I’ll do anything for you and I mean it. Anything to take care of you, protect you. Anything. I’m not trying to take you in. I’ve spent the last four days with Natasha, creating a paper trail that shows the Winter Soldier has been working with the Avengers since the take-down of HYDRA. That you provided inside information. That you’ve been operating in the city under our supervision and protection. Nobody else knows who you are right now, Bucky. I can keep it that way for as long as you’d like. And I won’t stop you from what you’ve been doing with Daredevil.”

“You’re being awfully fucking accepting of all this. Why would you do all that? When I’ve been very _publicly_ at the top spot on the Avengers’ Most Wanted list all this time? Fuck, where do you think half your anonymous tips about sightings of me came from? At least you got that part right. I’ve been sending you chasing across the globe for years, monitoring your tracking down of HYDRA.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I had a suspicion for a while now that the tips were coming from a credible insider still hiding from us. It didn’t take me long after waking up in the medbay to realize it was you. And I did it because I love you. Because you’re my mate. You can call me crazy, tell me I’m insane if you want to, but you can’t deny you’ve felt it too. You fucking called me _Alpha_ earlier!” Steve’s hand smacks his own chest for emphasis, and he leans forward, but doesn’t come off the couch.

“My rut triggered your heat early, which almost never happens outside of mates. The sight of your face, the sound of your voice, hell, even getting a text from you calms me when I’m in a bad mood. But your scent? You are _home_ for me, Bucky. There will never be another person for me. Fuck, look at how you reacted to my absence for your heat! If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what else I can do, because that only happens to _mates who haven’t bonded yet_ as a way to encourage the bonding process. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means lying to the entire world.”

It's hard not to get swept up in Steve’s wake, to not fall into the sincerity in his voice and the determination on his stupidly handsome face. But the whispers of the demons in his head are loud, have been a constant companion from the time his family died and he, the weak one, had been left behind.

“I’m not a good person,” Bucky chokes out. “I don’t think I’m worth all this, Steve.”

“That’s a fucking _lie,”_ Steve growls. He surges off the couch, bats aside Bucky’s arm holding the gun, and pulls him in for a fierce kiss. “You _are_ good. You have done good things by choice. You’ve been _used_ and _forced_ to do bad things, but that is not who you _are_.”

“Anything good in my life has been taken from me. I don’t deserve nice things. I don’t deserve _you_.”

“Well, I’ve got bad news for you then, sweetheart. Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Bucky gasps, fighting another wave of his heat pulsing through him. It was _damned_ inconvenient timing.

“Steve,” he whimpers, and his free hand digs into Steve’s side as he grabs him tightly.

“Let me have the gun, sweetheart.”

Bucky looks at Steve’s hand, held palm up, waiting for the gun. The moment he relinquishes it to him, Bucky deflates, as if the gun had been the source of his strength.

“Shh, I’ve got you, honey.” Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, tucks his head into the crook of Steve’s neck, and pets his head soothingly as Bucky tries and fails to fight the tears. He _hates_ feeling this weak, this vulnerable, hates that Steve’s massive arms around him make him feel protected when he can fucking protect himself, thank you very much.

He'd put his body through hell to insure that he’d never be a burden to anyone ever again.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, stroking his fingers through Steve’s chest hair above his heart. “I’ve honestly not had a real relationship since high school, and I’m pretty sure they don’t count. As soon as the serum took effect and made me bigger, they put me on suppressants. I was on them until you took HYDRA down and I couldn’t get them any longer.”

“If it helps, I haven’t had a relationship in over seventy years, and that was during the war, so I’m just as clueless as you.”

Bucky’s laugh turns to a whimper and he buries his face in Steve’s chest with a pitiful whine. “I—I don’t think I could bear it if I lost you. And I _hate_ how true that is, because I was perfectly fine before you came along. But now I’m all _soft_ and _sweet_ and _needy_ and everything I always hated about being an Omega, everything I was trained to not be and was happy to be without, because it meant I was in charge of my life, not someone else.”

“I’m not leaving, Bucky.”

“But what if SHIELD doesn’t buy the story? You really expect them to believe that you lied to them all this time?”

“Then they can go fuck themselves and spend the rest of their lives trying to find us when we ghost them.”

“You’d give up everything, go on the run, just like that?”

“For you? I’d do anything. I just need you. That’s all that matters.”

Bucky lets out another whine as Steve’s words sink in through the mess of emotions and hormones that is his brain currently and wrap themselves around the cage Bucky keeps his heart in.

“I won’t apologize for shooting you. Can’t promise I won’t do it again.”

Steve’s arms tighten around him. “I understand why you did what you did, and I forgive you for it. I don’t think I’m actually in danger of you shooting me again. Regardless, please believe that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you never feel the need to shoot me again.” He presses a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head before resting his cheek there as he continues. “I _do_ owe you an apology though. I’d intended to tell you the truth the night you made me dinner, but then you kissed me, and it escalated in a hurry…”

“You know, you being Captain America makes so many things make more sense. Like your ridiculous stamina and strength.”

“Was it too much?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky lifts his head to see Steve’s face, make sure that the man knows he’s deadly serious.

“Too much? The way you fucked me the last time? Or during your rut? I may still be mad at you, we might have more things to discuss still, but baby, if you think we’re not going to test those limits now, you’re sorely mistaken. We’re going to need reinforced _walls_ by the time I’m done trying to exhaust you. You’re fucking _the Winter Soldier_ , honey. You read the files. I received the diet version of your serum. I can take whatever you can dish out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> communication!! yay!!! but they're not done yet. still more to discuss. next chapter: more smut, more talking, more fluff. I don't even know who I am anymore.


	16. Chapter 16

The effect of his words on Steve is immediate. Steve’s nostrils flare, his pupils blow out wide, and the muscle in his jaw tics as he swallows hard. In the next second, Bucky has been dragged fully onto Steve’s lap, his rapidly hardening cock pressed against Bucky’s own, which is following suit as Bucky stops fighting his heat and grinds into Steve’s hold.

“Steve—want— _need_ —you. But, wanna make…” he pants, head dropping back as Steve leaves a trail of bites down the column of his neck and across his chest.

“Get the blanket,” Steve says none-too-gently as he latches onto a nipple.

Bucky reaches behind himself and grabs blindly for the comforter and drags it to them with one arm, refusing to loosen his hold on Steve’s hair. Once within reach, Steve grabs the blanket from him and manages to wrap it around them.

“Feel like a damn sushi roll all wrapped up in here with you,” he grumbles.

Steve laughs softly, and it’s his ‘oh my god you are so adorable’ laugh that Bucky ~~loves~~ hates because of how it makes him feel.

“But is it better?”

“Shut up.”

Steve leans them to the side and then rolls so that Bucky is on his back on the floor, a soft layer of Steve’s blanket beneath him and around them, keeping their bodies pressed close together. It’s not quite the nest he wants, but it’s more than he’s had previously, and it’s enough to at least partially sate his Omega drive for the moment.

They rock together, cocks sliding alongside each other, as Steve spends several minutes licking and kissing over Bucky’s scent and claiming glands, winding Bucky’s need ever higher.

“Get _inside me_ , goddamn it!”

“You gonna let me stay this time?”

“Your first knot takes too long anyway— _fuck, yes_ , _I fucking love your cock, thank you, Alpha, feels so good, fuck…”_ Bucky is aware that his mouth is running, words falling out of it, as Steve drives into him, and he can only hold on as Steve’s knot starts to fill and he wraps a large hand around Bucky’s cock.

“I have another confession to make.”

“I swear to _Christ_ , Steve, your idea of timing…”

Steve kisses his way up to Bucky’s ear.

“ _I’ve been holding back.”_

Steve’s teeth close on his earlobe, coming together with an audible click as he drags them off. It takes Bucky a moment to realize that the whimper he heard came from his own throat at hearing Steve’s words.

Steve slams his hips against Bucky’s as he wraps one arm around his lower back and braces himself on the other. Some distant part of Bucky’s brain registers the fact that Steve’s knot is already almost full, but he’s fucking into Bucky as if it’s not even there, forcing the knot in on every thrust and dragging it out every time he pulls back. He’s torturing Bucky’s hole and god _damn_ it feels amazing as that knot slides over more than just a tiny portion inside him, stretching him almost too full, too much pressure beyond Steve’s already gigantic cock, bordering on that razor-thin line between pleasure and true pain.

“Fuck, you have _no idea_ how good that feels, _fuck_ , sweetheart, I knew you’d be able to take this, let me do it. Come on, honey, come for me, let me feel you milk that knot, wanna fill you up, fuck, I’m gonna come so hard, fuck I fucking love you so much—”

Bucky comes when Steve slams in on the next thrust, tightens his legs around Steve’s hips and holds him there, buried to the hilt, as he rides out the orgasm, Steve’s growl joining his cries as he follows Bucky into endorphin-filled bliss.

Steve’s teeth are buried in Bucky’s shoulder, only inches from his claiming glands, and he’s breathing heavily through his nose, sucking air as if he’d just run five marathons. Even during his rut, Bucky hadn’t seen Steve this worked up, almost _feral_ with need. He’s suitably impressed with the man’s willpower and self-control if he’d managed to hold himself back during a rut. He’s equally turned on by it, too—both the control aspect and the prospect of fucking Steve during a rut when he’s _not_ restrained.

With a deep breath and a shudder, Steve seems to come back to himself. He kisses and licks softly over the bite a few times before he lifts his head to meet Bucky’s gaze.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? That was amazing.”

The relief is easy to see on Steve’s face.

“I won’t heal as fast as you,” he starts, placing his palm over the faintly pink skin of Steve’s side, where he’d shot him less than a week ago. “But I promise you, I’ll be absolutely fine. You’re not going to hurt me by fucking your knot like that. And if it makes you that crazy, I _definitely_ want to do it again.”

Steve’s cheeks flush and he ducks his head, buries his nose in Bucky’s neck once more.

“You smell so much better now,” he notes absently, as he noses over Bucky’s scent glands.

“That’s because I smell like you again.”

A pleased rumble reverberates through Steve. “Mine,” he whispers, tonguing over the scent gland.

“Alphas,” Bucky huffs, but his tone is light and teasing, and he feels Steve’s smile against his skin.

Steve’s cock has softened enough that he slips easily from Bucky, though neither of them make any attempt to move for a moment.

“Thank you for coming back for me.” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, and he forces himself to look at Steve’s face as he speaks. The near-admission isn’t easy to give up, even when it’s for Steve. He’s rewarded with a sweet smile as Steve’s entire _body_ softens in response. He lowers himself to rest on his forearm, and frees the arm that’s still holding Bucky, bringing his hand up to brush the hair back from Bucky’s forehead before he presses a gentle kiss there.

“I wasn’t even sure you’d be here. I’d expected you to be gone. Daredevil came to me, told me you needed me. Actually threatened me if I didn’t make things right with you,” he added with a grin. “He was very pleased to find out what I’d been doing to protect you.”

“Of _course_ he went to you,” Bucky groans, covering his face with a hand.

“He cares about you. He’s a good friend. I’m glad you have him on your side.”

Bucky hums and looks away, toys with the blanket that is now around their waists instead of their shoulders because Steve had fucked them right out of it and halfway across the floor.

“I’m not used to having real friends. At least, I haven’t had any in a long time.” He sighs. “Okay. Let me up. This is getting uncomfortable. Also, go put away the leftovers while I…do this.”

“Sir yes sir,” Steve answers with mock seriousness, a twinkle in his eyes.

Bucky pouts and pushes at Steve. He wants a proper nest for their next time. And he’s just _done_ with talking about _feelings_ for a bit.

“Go.”

Steve kisses his forehead again and rises up, stepping out of the top of the blanket. Bucky sits up and unconsciously burrows back down into his little cocoon.

“What’s in the rest of the boxes?” he asks, pulling the blanket snug.

“The pillows from my bed should also be in that big box you opened, and probably one of the smaller ones. Then there’s the large blanket from my couch, the smaller lap blanket from the recliner, the throw pillows from the furniture. Not sure what else Clint might have grabbed. I told him all the blankets and pillows, and some clothes for me.”

“Jesus you are an _actual_ hundred-year-old man. A _lap blanket_ from your _recliner_?”

“Don’t forget that this ‘hundred-year-old-man’ fucked you nonstop for almost a week last month, so your insult doesn’t hold much weight.”

“Mmm. It smelled like a fucking brothel in here when you left. I loved it.”

Steve barks out a surprised laugh.

“Where do you want these, sweetheart? By the bed?” He pulls a few pillows from one of the boxes and holds them up for Bucky to see.

Bucky stands and appraises his space. He’d never once considered nesting when picking out an apartment. It had been all about defendability and ease of escape, not comfort.

“I think…yeah. Between the bed and the wall, by the window.”

Steve piles everything within reach for him as he begins arranging the space. He starts by shoving the mattress onto the floor. Steve’s throw pillows get placed along the wall for cushioning, and he shoves his own blanket along the side by the bed to soften the edge of the frame. He covers it all with Steve’s _lap_ blankets—he’s seriously going to never let that one go—and then obsessively arranges and rearranges all the combined bed pillows to make a comfortable pile for lying on.

While Bucky’s busy, Steve occupies himself with cleaning up more of the apartment. Bucky catches him watching a few times with an amused grin on his face. The pure joy suffusing Steve’s scent is addictive, and it makes _Bucky_ happy to see _Steve_ happy.

“I need…can you help?”

“Of course, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

“I want the big blanket over the top of everything. Like a roof.”

Steve helps him secure the blanket, and Bucky steps back to inspect his work. He crawls in the small opening he’d left to make sure there’s enough room inside. It’s perfect. And as he sits in the middle of his first true nest in god knows how long, he starts crying.

“Buck? Honey?” Steve calls hesitantly from the entrance, concern clear on his face. Bucky holds a hand out in invitation and Steve carefully makes his way into Bucky’s space. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Bucky nods his head mutely and wraps himself around Steve, pulls him down so that they’re lying back on all the pillows, facing each other.

“What do you need, honey?”

“Jus’ this. Lay with me?”

“Of course.”

“Today has been a _lot_ ,” he says finally, gaze on Steve’s chest, where he’s been absently petting him and playing with his chest hair. He’s kind of obsessed with it, loves that Steve has just that little bit on his chest, and the faint trail on his navel leading to that glorious cock.

Steve murmurs his assent into Bucky’s hair, presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re right, though,” Bucky admits.

“About?”

“Us. About…our connection. I’m quite serious when I say that I don’t know how to be in a relationship.” Bucky wonders why he can’t just shut his brain off and get dicked down like he wants to. He sighs as more words tumble from his lips and he gives even more of himself to this man. “All I have to base one on is the faint memories of my parents before they died when I was a kid, and then my grandparents who raised me after that until I signed up for the HYDRA program. Even then, I was the only Omega in the family. All I had to learn from was nons or a few Betas.” Steve’s arms silently tighten around him, and Bucky allows himself to take the comfort. “When I joined HYDRA…they trained all the Omegas for honeypots. I was so…naïve. I didn’t really know any better, didn’t know what it could be— _should_ be—like, and I…I was their best. I was sent on more than a few honeypots. More than anyone else.”

“Well, I should thank them I think. Your skills are amazing. I’m enjoying reaping the benefits of their education.”

“Asshole.”

He can feel Steve’s smile against his forehead.

“I’m kind of serious though. I know most people would probably freak out at hearing that, expect me to freak, given who I am.”

“You _are_ taking it better than I’d thought.”

“Well, you couldn’t have known who I was. I wore the mask, and I used an alias on the site. So to think you’d have been running one on me is ridiculous.”

“Wouldn’t stop some people from jumping to that conclusion.”

“Well, I do have a brain. I even use it sometimes.”

“Not often enough if I had to shoot you.”

“I am so, so sorry you had to find out like that. I had every intention of telling you as soon as we were together again.”

“I mean, I can understand why you’d hide your identity. I do. But after our last time…I was really hurt. I felt betrayed. I’d given you more of myself than I’d ever given to anyone, and to find out you weren’t who I thought you were…”

“I was. I _am_. I hope you see that. I hid my face, yes, but not _myself._ Please believe that.”

“I do see that now. Because _Grant_ would have absolutely sent me his _lap blankets_ to cheer me up if I was sad.”

“Oh my god. You’re never—”

“Nope,” Bucky cuts him off with a grin and a kiss.

“I am sorry I shot you though. The second time. Once would have been enough, I’m sure. The second one was all my anger and you didn’t deserve that.”

“That’s debatable. Natasha thinks I deserved it. Said if you hadn’t shot me she would have had to hurt me. She really wants this to work, by the way. I think the whole team does. They say I’ve never been nicer to everyone.”

Bucky laughs as he rolls them over, so he’s on top of Steve. “It’s amazing what getting your dick wet on the regular can do for an Alpha’s disposition.”

“ _Mmm_. That’s not something I’d know much about. I didn’t have all that much experience before the serum. I was too sick most of the time, and being gay wasn’t looked upon favorably back then. People weren’t as accepting of non-Alpha men being with other men, so my sex life was fairly non-existent. Then after the serum, I was so strong…anyway my point is that last month was the most amazing sex of my life. And we both know you took the lead for most of it. So thank you for your experience and helping me through my rut.”

“You’re still an asshole though. The serum didn’t fix that.”

Steve laughs, and pulls Bucky down for a kiss that starts out soft and starts to grow heated quickly.

“Steve?”

_“Mmm?”_

“Do you really love me?”

“I do. I am completely and hopelessly in love with you.”

_“Why?”_ he couldn’t help the incredulity in his voice. The thought that someone could love him, now, after everything he’d done and been through, how he’d changed from the boy he’d been, was something that he couldn’t understand.

“Because you’re perfect. You’re intelligent, you’re skilled, you’re competent. I don’t have to worry about hurting you. I don’t have to worry about someone trying to use you to get to me, don’t have to worry that you’d be hurt by one of my enemies, because you’d fuck them up sixteen ways to Sunday for even thinking about touching you. And that, I won’t lie, is pretty fucking hot.”

“Who knew Captain America would have a competency kink?”

“Okay but have you _seen_ yourself in your gear? All that leather and those weapons and the way you… _murder strut_ around in that mask?”

The scent of Steve’s arousal hit Bucky’s nose, as if his hard cock straining against the confines of his boxers wasn’t telling enough.

“Should I go put it on?”

Steve’s entire body turns about ten different shades of red and Bucky laughs.

“Oh, baby, it’s gonna happen. Not now, but some day.”

Steve ducks his head to hide his embarrassment, rolls them again to return his attention to nuzzling Bucky’s neck once more.

“Do you think Captain America could be mated to the Winter Soldier?”

Steve lifts his head from where he’d been licking Bucky’s claiming gland.

“I don’t give two shits about that. But I do know that Steve Rogers would die a happy man if he was able to mate with James Barnes some day.”

Bucky swallows past the lump in his throat, stares up at Steve in silence.

“I don’t know if I know how to love someone.”

“I don’t need to hear the words from you to know how you feel. I can see it. Feel it. You’ve already shown me, in a million ways. If it helps, I won’t say it again. Not until you’re ready for it. I don’t need to use words to make you see that you’re loved.”

Bucky feels like he’s hyperventilating as he drags Steve’s face back down to his.

“Show me,” he gasps into Steve’s mouth.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this is crazy short, but I've kept you guys waiting longer than usual. the problem was that I was trying to connect this to what's going to come next, and realized this morning that they really need to be two separate chapters. ALSO, I really needed a solid conclusion to Bucky's heat, which has now lasted for four chapters, lolol.

Bucky wakes to the feeling of Steve’s cock sliding into him.

“Wha— _nngh_ , god, Steve what the fuck?” he croaks out, voice rough with sleep. He’s not exactly adverse to the idea of sex first thing in the morning, but a little bit of warning beforehand would be helpful. Behind him, Steve stills.

“Were you—I thought—the way you were—oh fuck, I’m sorry!” he stammers and starts to pull back.

Bucky reaches back and clamps his hand onto Steve’s hip, holding him in place.

“Don’t stop _now_ , asshole.”

They’re lying on their sides, Bucky’s back pressed up against Steve’s chest as they spooned, having slept in the nest after Steve had thoroughly taken Bucky apart with his teeth and tongue and cock. Bucky hadn’t wanted to take it down, and they _were_ on the actual mattress, after all, so he’d just pulled a blanket from the side and curled up in Steve’s arms.

“Thought you were awake,” Steve says, nosing at the back of Bucky’s neck. “You were rubbing this ass up against me, making all manner of noises and smelling so sweet…”

“I’m certainly awake now, and definitely on board with the plan, so start moving, old man.”

Steve’s hand slides down from Bucky’s hip to grab his leg, lifting it up and driving his cock in deeper.

“I’ll show you _old_ ,” he growls, teeth set in Bucky’s shoulder, in response to the taunt. Bucky laughs and braces himself with his arm, pushing back into Steve’s body.

“Fuck, you’re ridiculous,” Bucky groans, as Steve nails his prostate with every thrust. “ _I’m_ the one in heat here, and you were shot twice not even a week ago. So how am I more tired than you?”

“You got the diet serum, honey. You said so yourself. Nothing beats the original.”

“Shit. I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Mmm-hmm. Warned you about issuing me challenges.”

“God— _fuck, Steve, I’m—Alpha!”_ Bucks gasps, face buried in the pillows as he comes with a hoarse cry. With a pleased rumble, Steve shifts behind him to push Bucky fully onto his stomach, staying inside him as they move.

Steve’s body covers his entirely, enveloping him in heat as he grinds into him. He slides his hands along Bucky’s arms and laces their fingers together. Bucky feels his body react to Steve’s casual display of strength, holding himself up like that so as not to crush Bucky, but close enough for Bucky to have the sensation of being _owned_ and _claimed_ and _submissive_ and _small_ , while still fucking into Bucky at a frustratingly even pace.

“Alpha,” he breathes, barely a whisper, as he goes lax with an audible sigh and just… _gives in_ to Steve. His actions don’t go unnoticed, and Steve comes almost immediately with a startled moan.

Steve’s body trembles and his teeth sink into the skin of Bucky’s shoulder again, breathing shakily.

“ _Omega,”_ he finally gasps out, kissing his way sloppily to Bucky’s face. Bucky turns, and the kiss they share is awkward and fumbling at this angle, considering that they’re locked together by Steve’s knot and Bucky can turn his body only just so far, but it feels perfect all the same.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you fall apart. How did I get so lucky, to find you after all these years?”

Bucky only hums in response, enjoying the way his brain drifts, knowing that Steve will keep him safe until he’s with it again.

One at a time, Steve releases Bucky’s hands, caressing his arms with gentle touches and soft kisses, until he’s braced with his forearms pressed against Bucky’s ribs. He’s not sure that the possessive position is even a conscious decision on Steve’s part, and finds that he doesn’t care. As they wait for Steve’s knot to go down enough, Steve lavishes attention on Bucky, kissing across his shoulders and nuzzling the back of his neck.

There’s being an Omega and then there’s _being an Omega_ , and Bucky has prided himself on existing as the former for a dozen years now. He’d always viewed the latter as being needy and emotional, and realizes now that those are not weaknesses. Not with the right partner. Giving himself to Steve and being _cherished_ for that gift is a heady fucking feeling, an overwhelming revelation for all the _rightness_ that comes with it, and Bucky doesn’t realize he’s crying until Steve is kissing the tears from his cheek.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Bucky makes a noise in his throat and shakes his head. “Not wrong. _Right._ M’okay,” he manages. He sucks in a deep breath and opens his eyes for the first time since he’d gone onto his stomach. “I’m good, baby,” he reiterates, holding Steve’s endlessly blue eyes. “Alpha,” he adds, almost shyly, and the spike in Steve’s scent makes it worth the effort of saying it when they’re not in the middle of sex or he’s not caught up in the throes of his heat.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Steve tucks some of Bucky’s hair behind an ear.

“If we’re gonna wake up with sex like that, we’re never sleeping outside the nest again,” Bucky quips, happy to find that he’s no longer crying. He hasn’t cried since his grandfather’s funeral—at least, not when he wasn’t acting for a mark—and he's now cried multiple times in the last day and a half with Steve and he doesn’t know how to handle that _at all_ and doesn't want to think about it right now.

Steve chuckles. “Should I buy us another mattress for the bed? Get more sheets?”

Bucky smiles at the thought. “While that does sound nice, this place really is too small to keep a nest this big built permanently. Plus, it’s the first one I’ve built in eons, so I could use the practice in getting it right, building one before I get so desperate… And besides, I’m pretty sure you just knotted the last of my heat out of me, so I won’t want to wallow around much longer.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I should take advantage of the situation while I still can, then?” Steve grinds against him, somehow still impossibly hard.

“Jesus. You’re an animal.”

“Can’t help it, honey. Whatever is going on in that brain of yours, you smell even better now than you do at the height of your heat. It’s doing things to me.”

Bucky feels himself blush and smiles softly, looking up at Steve through his lashes. “At least let me roll over first. So I can kiss you properly.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for how long this took. Real life got a bit crazy for a few days last week and I didn't get much writing time. Enjoy!!

Things happen quickly after Bucky’s heat finishes. He hadn’t exactly _not_ expected them to happen, he just hadn’t expected it to happen _all at once_.

Knowing Steve’s intensity, he really shouldn’t have been surprised to find himself walking into the fucking _Avengers Tower_ two days later to “officially meet the team” and get programmed into Stark’s AI system for access.

It was all very surreal.

Stark, being Stark, makes a big deal about “Cap’s murder boyfriend” and they’re sitting in a big common room filled with food and drinks, where Bucky feels very conspicuous sitting at Steve’s side on the large couch as people make their way into the room to join them.

“Hey man, thanks for wearing pants this time.” Clint sits on his other side, and Bucky grins, happy that he’s the first one to come over to him.

“Hey Clint. Thanks for helping with those things.”

Clint shrugs. “No prob. I don’t pretend to understand all that biological stuff, but if Steve calls and says he needs help, then I’m gonna help. He doesn’t ask for much.”

Everyone speaks to him at one point or another, but none of them crowd him or make him feel trapped. That doesn’t stop his eyes from constantly checking the exits and everyone’s locations, or stop him from randomly running his fingers over his ankle and the knife strapped there.

“You’re doing fantastic, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to his temple at one point.

“Casing a crowd and a new building is one thing, being the center of attention for _the Avengers_ as a _quasi-equal_ when just two weeks ago I was on their hit list is entirely different.”

Steve’s arm is casually thrown along the back of the couch, and he squeezes Bucky’s shoulder. “Do you need a break? We can slip away for a few minutes. There’s still a few things I haven’t shown you.”

“I can do that.”

Bucky looks up to see the one person who _hasn’t_ spoken to him yet: Natasha Romanov.

“You’re not going to throw me off the roof, are you?” he asks, only half-joking. The woman is terrifying, and he wonders what she’d be like with the serum. _Unstoppable_ comes to mind.

“Stairwell would be less conspicuous,” she answers flatly, her face an unreadable mask.

“Nat…” Steve begins.

Her eyes flick quickly over to Steve and then back to Bucky. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow cocks, and Bucky doesn’t know if it’s in challenge or invitation. Bucky’s never been into women, but he’s pretty sure he’d let her peg him and say thank you afterwards. _Maybe_ I’m _the one with the competency kink,_ he thinks as he finds himself silently standing up.

“It’s okay, Steve. Stay with your friends. The whole point is for me to get to know everyone, right? If she wants to show me something I’ll go,” he says with a confidence he doesn’t _quite_ feel, and follows her to the elevators.

“I’m sure Steve has told you that each of us has our own floor. Above this common floor, you will only have free access to Steve’s floor. Anywhere else you must be accompanied by another team member.”

“Yeah, he told me all that,” Bucky confirms, trying not to stare at her once they’re inside. He slips his hands into his pockets in a show of trust that the woman won’t hurt him—because there is little doubt in his mind that if anyone other than Steve could truly harm him, it would be her—and casually leans back into the corner of the surprisingly large space.

There’s a barely imperceptible twitch to one corner of her mouth as she takes in his stance. She mirrors his position in the opposite corner, with her arms folded across her stomach.

“Jarvis, the gym please,” Natasha says, almost as an afterthought, and Bucky feels them begin to move. “This is the only other team floor you will be allowed unfettered access to. Feel free to use it any time, even alone.”

The doors open and she pushes herself off the wall and waits for him to move. He can take the hint, and exits the elevator into the gym of his dreams.

“Holy fuck.”

Natasha sweeps her arm to the left. “Everything on this wall is Steve’s, it’s all been modified to handle his excess capabilities.” Bucky nods, appreciative of the information. “Regular weights and equipment here, treadmills in addition to the raised track above us. Racquetball because Tony is ridiculous, but it’s actually kind of fun. There’s a shooting and archery range that you will be allowed into with an escort on another floor.”

Bucky wanders through the space, eyeing the equipment, when suddenly he finds himself on his back, Natasha’s knees on his shoulders, blade pressed against his neck, and—

“Jesus _fuck_ I didn’t even hear you _move_ , what the _fuck?”_

“There’s a sparring mat here, too, in addition to the boxing ring.”

“The back of my head is telling me that we are definitely _not_ on that mat, however.” His head was, in fact, spinning, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t work through and ignore.

“No, we’re not,” she confirms, voice even.

“Can I get up?” he asks, even though he’s sure of the answer.

“You know that Steve is like a giant overgrown puppy, right? He’s our leader, and yes he’s an Alpha, but under that, he’s _Steve_ and _Steve_ is the kindest, sweetest, most genuine and caring person I know. And if you _ever_ hurt him again, _nobody_ will be able to find your body, you understand? You get a pass for the _one time_ because I understand and agree that he deserved to get his ass kicked for keeping the secret once you two agreed to move past a casual fuck. You know exactly who I am, yes?”

Her tone made it clear that she expected him to answer.

“Yes.”

“The you know exactly what I’m capable of. So this is your one warning.”

“I’m both aroused and terrified right now. And I don’t even like women. Jesus Christ.”

“Smart man.”

“Clint’s a lucky man.”

Natasha blinks several times before her lips slowly curl into a smile.

“Here’s your knife back,” she says, flipping the blade around and holding it out to him as she gracefully rises to stand next to him.

“Motherfucker! I didn’t even feel that! Fuck. I can’t _wait_ to train with you. It’s almost like meeting one of your idols. God. You’re amazing.”

That same eyebrow arches again.

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

Bucky returns the knife to the ankle sheath and pushes himself up off the floor. “Yeah, well, if I was well-adjusted, I wouldn’t have become who I did, now would I?”

“Fair enough.”

***

Steve relaxes when Natasha returns Bucky still in one piece, with no extra holes in him that he can see.

“Oh my god, Steve. I’m not going to hurt him when you’re right here,” Natasha teases, and Bucky laughs. “So, Thursday?” she adds on, and Bucky nods vigorously.

“Yes. Absolutely. I can’t wait.”

Steve tips his head, brows drawn together in question as he looks between the two.

“That gym is _amazing_ ,” Bucky says as he sits back down—but instead of sitting on the _couch_ , he _straddles Steve’s lap_ and gives him a kiss. Steve can _feel_ the excitement thrumming through Bucky’s body. “And I’m going to get to train with _her_.”

Steve can’t help but laugh at the joy and awe in Bucky’s voice.

“I’ll be sure to be ready with plenty of ice packs then. She took me down more than once when I first joined the team.”

“That’s because you didn’t know how to _fight_ , Steve. Bucky has a healthy head start on you. He’ll do much better than you did, I’m sure,” Sam jests, and Steve sputters. His indignation is worth it, though, to see Bucky truly relaxed and laughing since they first set foot in the building.

Most of the team members have dispersed from the common room, so as Bucky tries to slide off his lap, Steve tightens his arms and keeps him there.

“Like you right here, honey. No need to move.”

“Sure there is,” Tony interjects. “Because I know what sitting like that leads to, and _no thank you_ in the common area in the middle of the day. I swear to god, you horny fucking des’s are going to be the death of me. I’m going to have to build cleaning robots because the staff is fucking tired of getting bodily fluids out of places they _don’t belong_!”

Bucky’s cheeks tinge with pink as he blushes, but he doesn’t back down, doesn’t hide his face even as his hands tighten on Steve’s shoulders. Steve looks up at him, and he knows he’s got a dopey grin on his face, but he can’t help it. He’s got Bucky in his lap, at the tower, around his friends. Everything is out in the open, and they’re moving forward. He can’t help but feel happy.

“What d’ya say, sweetheart? Should we go somewhere else? There’s still one place I haven’t shown you.”

“You’re _ridiculous_. It’s been barely six hours!” Bucky hisses, even as he shifts slightly, pressing his groin closer to Steve’s.

Steve grins and slides his hands down to cup Bucky’s ass, holding him tightly as he stands. Bucky instantly wraps himself around Steve, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, as he moves them toward the elevator.

“There you go, honey. I’ve got you.”

“You’re such a show-off. Jesus,” Bucky admonishes, but he buries his face in Steve’s neck like he always does when he’s trying to hide how affected he is by Steve’s actions.

“That goes for the elevator, too!” Tony calls after them, and Bucky laughs lightly.

“Who keeps making a mess of the tower?” he asks, and Steve grins.

“Sam and Parker and their respective partners. Some of our non-resident members on occasion. There are rooms for everyone here. Some of us have entire floors because we live here full time, but others who are only around occasionally, like the twins, or Thor, only have small suites.”

“Those suites are still bigger than my apartment, aren’t they?”

Steve shrugs. “This is Tony, so…”

“So yes.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky unwraps his legs from Steve and stands on his own, though he keeps his arms around Steve’s neck. “So what does your _floor_ look like?”

“Honestly? A hotel. I much prefer your apartment. It looks like a home. It’s more of what I’m used to from when I was growing up. This is far too big for just me on my own.” At his words, Bucky takes a half-step back.

“I’m not living here with all of them. This removed from the rest of the world.”

Bucky’s immediate and strong response makes Steve pause as the elevator slows.

“Sweetheart, I would never make you do that. Being here, with everything I needed, it was good. It helped me adjust to the world, skewed through Tony as it was. And then I just stayed, because it was easier. It’s not like I have friends or family to be near. Now I just want to be with you. Whether that’s your apartment, somewhere new that we decide on, or here.” Steve honestly hadn’t even given it much thought prior to this moment, but the words fell easily from his lips, truth and sincerity behind every one of them. He’d live in Bucky’s tiny apartment if that’s what Bucky wanted, or they’d move to a bigger one. So long as he had Bucky, he didn’t care.

Bucky nods his head and turns towards the door as he speaks, waiting for the elevator to open. “Okay. The tower is nice and all, don’t get me wrong. It’s just…too much. I think—oh _fuck_.”

Bucky is two steps into the room before he falls to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Bucky!” Steve rushes to his side and Bucky falls into him, powerful hands digging into his arms.

_“Alpha!”_ Bucky cries, and that’s when it hits him: Bucky’s arousal, the scent of slick beginning to gather, the _need_ within Bucky.

“Bucky, what—oh. _Oh._ Oh honey I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking…”

“ _Take me,_ ” Bucky growls, knocking Steve backwards onto the floor and climbing on top of him. “Need you. Fuck me. Fill me. _Breed me._ Claim me.”

Steve rumbles deep in his chest and pulls Bucky in for a fierce kiss, biting and nipping at his jaw and neck. Bucky whimpers in response, tips his head to expose his claiming glands, and Steve barely restrains himself from sinking his teeth into them.

“Hang on, honey, hang on. I’ve got you. I’m sorry. Get your clothes off, sweetheart. Jarvis, please lock down the floor until further notice,” he adds as Bucky literally rips the shirt from his body.

He should have had Jarvis turn the filters on when they got back to the tower. His rooms—his _den_ —reek of concentrated Alpha pheromones. This is Bucky’s response to the blankets multiplied by a thousand. He is _Bucky’s Alpha_ and this is his space, and it contains none of his Omega’s scent.

Bucky was staking his claim on Steve’s den, much the way Steve had claimed Bucky’s nest.


	19. Chapter 19

Bucky paws at Steve’s clothes and Steve tries to distract him, slow him down, before he tears something else or hurts one of them with his uncoordinated movements.

“Bucky, _Bucky_ , I’ve got you, honey. _Calm_. Let’s go—”

“ _No.”_ Bucky cuts him off, voice a vehement growl. “ _Here. Now.”_

Steve is…to say that he’s _affected_ would be an understatement. Bucky’s scent has taken a sharp turn. When he’s in heat, it turns sweet, almost like cotton candy, enhancing everything that Steve associates with the fleeting times of joy and happiness in his youth and reminding him even more of Coney Island. Now, the chocolate and leather undertones are taking over, turning into something dark and enticing and irresistible. But Steve is not going to fuck Bucky the way he’s asking him to on the cold tile floor of the entryway.

“ _Over. Ass up_ ,” he commands, and it _is_ a command, but instead of the usual snark that Bucky gives him when he lets the Alpha influence slip, Bucky’s eyes fall closed and he moans and shudders in his grasp, body going lax.

“Yes, Alpha,” he answers, and Steve thinks he’s going to fucking come just from that—the way Bucky just _submits_ to him, or the way the words escape Bucky’s lips with a breathy sigh, or the look of pure joy on his face, knowing he’s about to get what he needs.

Steve helps Bucky shed the rest of his clothing and gets him into position.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, clearly confused by the fact that Steve hasn’t taken his own pants off.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take care of you.”

“But you’re—”

His words are cut off as Steve buries his face between the firm cheeks of Bucky’s ass and drags his tongue through the slick leaking copiously from his hole.

“Goddamn you taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Better’n anything I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

_“Steve!”_ Bucky keens, drawing his name out into a high-pitched whine. Steve nips and mouths at the smooth flesh before him.

“Been wanting to do this right, now that I’ve got that fucking mask off. Just got too distracted with your heat.”

“ _Fffff…”_ Bucky can’t even get the word out as Steve dives back in, driving his tongue deep inside Bucky.

“Fun fact: I can go a long time without needing to breathe. Did you know that?”

Bucky whimpers at the words, and Steve grins as he slips a finger in alongside his tongue, tugging against the rim and giving him better access to the nectar of Bucky’s slick. He curls his tongue and fucks in, feeling the pulsing of Bucky’s walls around him as he laps up his prize. Some part of his brain knows that he wouldn’t enjoy this as much with anyone else—hell, he didn’t normally have strong feelings on this activity either way to begin with—if this wasn’t _Bucky_ before him, wasn’t his _mate_. But that part of his brain doesn’t matter right now, not when Bucky is making the sweetest whines and softest mewls for him, squirming and begging, pleading, _Steve_ and _Alpha_ falling from his lips in stuttered, half-formed cries as Steve worships Bucky’s ass with his teeth and lips and tongue.

“Please!” Bucky begs, and Steve knows the desperation in that sound, knows how badly Bucky needs to come. He pulls back just enough to wipe his face with his hand, gathering up the mixture of his own spit and Bucky’s slick covering his chin before diving right back in, this time with his hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Bucky pants, arms giving way, and he drops down to his elbows. Steve rumbles in approval, pressing his face even harder against Bucky’s hole, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks against the sensitive skin. “Oh fuck, _Steve!”_ he cries, and Steve feels the tell-tale clenching of Bucky’s walls tightening around him. He pulls back and drives two more fingers in, twisting his hand and pressing against Bucky’s prostate.

Bucky screams, incoherent half-formed words mixed with high-pitched cries as he writhes in Steve’s grip, one fisted hand pounding sporadically at the floor.

“That’s it, honey, come on, give it to me. Such a good Omega. _My Omega_ ,” he rumbles, letting the Alpha bleed through, and Bucky crashes over the edge, body going rigid as Steve wrings the orgasm from him. The intoxicating scent of Bucky’s release fills Steve’s nose as his cock pulses in Steve’s hand, spilling onto the floor beneath him. Steve works him through it, pulls every drop of come he can get out of him until Bucky’s body ceases its trembling.

“There ya go, honey. Right there.” Steve removes his hand from Bucky’s spent cock and places his palm right in the puddle of his release. “Here you are, sweetheart. This better? Need to make sure everyone smells you the moment they step inside?” Steve smears Bucky’s come across the floor, works it into the lines of grout between the tiles. Bucky’s forehead is pressed against the floor and his eyes follow every move of Steve’s fingers as he marks his home with Bucky’s scent. “Now everyone will know I’m yours. This is _your_ space now, too.”

Bucky’s eyes close briefly as he smiles.

“You’re fucking _filthy_. I love it. Not what I’d been aiming for, but I’ll take it.”

Steve pulls Bucky up and nestles him on his lap, one arm around his chest, the other slipping down to tease at his half-hard cock, while he presses his achingly hard cock firmly against Bucky’s ass.

“Oh honey, who said we were _done_ spreading your scent around the place?”

Bucky purrs, body soft and subtly rocking against Steve’s, as he winds an arm up and around Steve’s head, pulling his face down into Bucky’s neck and over his claiming glands.

“Mmm, where to next?”

Steve struggles to keep his breathing steady and even as his heart races and his teeth _ache_ to sink into the soft skin under his lips. They’ve casually thrown around the topic of mating and bonding, but he refuses to do it in the heat of the moment, when Bucky is in a cloud of pheromones and hormones, and they haven’t explicitly discussed a permanent claim. With a shuddering breath, he turns his head to press a trail of kisses along the top of Bucky’s shoulder.

“Got plenty of rooms, honey. Anywhere you want.”

“That couch is looking like it was made to hold two supersoldiers.”

“All the furniture is. Tony got tired of me breaking everything in the beginning. After I was thawed out, I had to learn how to handle modern materials. Things aren’t as sturdy and heavy as what I’d grown up with.”

“But I am, huh?”

“Sweetheart, if I’d grown up with you, I’d have bailed out of that plane before it hit the ice. Hell, I’d probably never have even gotten into the program if I’d had you.”

A surprised sound sticks in Bucky’s throat and his scent makes that sugary-sweet spike that Steve has associated with the Omega part of Bucky’s brain becoming unexpectedly pleased. His suspicions are confirmed when the sound and scent are followed by a very enthusiastic purr and another roll of his hips against Steve’s still-clothed groin.

“Could you imagine, the two of us, skinny little shits full of piss and vinegar, terrorizing the city?”

Steve laughs.

“Mmm, I almost feel sorry for the people we never knew. But this is better, I think.”

“How so?”

Steve gently turns Bucky around so that he’s facing Steve, straddling his lap.

“Because now we’re two muscle-bound shits full of piss and vinegar who get to terrorize the _world_.”

Bucky throws his head back in laughter, and Steve’s heart soars in his chest. Bucky is downright _gorgeous_ and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve having this man in his life, but he knows he will spend every day of the rest of his existence doing whatever it takes to keep Bucky happy.

“But we _could_ just settle for terrorizing Tony Stark and the cleaning staff for now.”

“That sounds like an _excellent_ plan.”

Bucky _squeals_ when Steve stands without warning, and though Steve will never acknowledge that Bucky made such a noise, he chuckles softly as he moves them to the couch.

*****

Bucky can not _believe_ that he just watched _Captain America_ smear his come into the floor of his apartment. Shit, he can’t believe that he’s _Captain America’s Omega_ when he lets himself think about it.

_In a way, though, it seems like fate_ , he muses as Steve slides into him and presses him into the couch. His movements are unhurried, a long, slow thrust while he kisses Bucky everywhere he can reach, and Bucky lets his mind wander as he sinks into the pleasure, the frantic need of _scentmarkclaimMINE_ sated, now content to just feel and let his natural scent suffuse the space.

Captain America had been an idol of his as a kid. As a skinny, weak, and occasionally sickly child himself, Bucky had identified strongly with the story of Steve Rogers, the man who had overcome so much and become something greater than himself, able to help his country and the world. That’s all Bucky had ever wanted. But Omegas had little chance of achieving such greatness, especially ones with slight builds like he’d had. When he’d discovered Hydra and the training program they’d offered “ _To help every Omega denied enlistment be their best and achieve their dreams through science and hard work,”_ he’d been quick to join, and when offered a top secret experimental program based on the same process as _“’the Captain America’ Supersoldier Initiative,”_ it had been a literal dream come true.

“So perfect,” Steve murmurs now, tongue lapping a searing heat over his scent glands. “Like you were made just for me.”

“I _was_ made for you,” Bucky laughs, and pulls Steve in for a kiss. “Got the reverse-engineered serum based off a stolen blood sample from you, remember? And I was the only one in the group to survive the process. ‘Course we found each other eventually.”

“Hmm. Well, whatever the how and the why, you were worth the wait.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky turns his head towards the back of the couch, covering his face with his hand to hide his embarrassment.

“Gonna keep telling you that til you believe it, sweetheart.”

“God, stop talking and fuck me. At least then you’re saying filthy shit or biting the hell out of me instead of getting my head all twisted up.”

Steve looks down at him, and Bucky pretends he doesn’t see the mix of sadness and pity that lingers in his eyes for a moment before he kisses Bucky. It starts out soft but quickly grows heated until Bucky is squirming and trying to get Steve to move where they’re joined together.

“You like it when I bite you, sweetheart?” he asks, nipping at Bucky’s earlobe.

“You know I do, asshole. I just wish the marks would last longer.”

“Mmm. In that case, maybe I should try harder. Leave better marks.” Steve’s head dips and he bites Bucky’s pec _hard_ , starts sucking and nibbling at it.

“Fuck, Steve, goddamn it, fucking move your fucking ass and _fuck_ me!” Bucky pants, because _Jesus that shouldn’t feel so good_. Steve lifts his head to inspect his work, and Bucky can _feel_ the way the sight affects Steve as one hand tightens on his hip. More than that, though, is the way Steve’s pupils dilate even more, his nostrils flare, his jaw clenches, and his chest heaves with a sharp inhale. The hard edge of ozone and thunderstorms overtakes Steve’s usual light scent and Bucky knows what’s coming next before the word even tears itself from Steve’s throat.

_“Mine,”_ Steve growls, pulling his hips back just enough to be able to _slam_ himself home inside Bucky.

_“Fuck!_ Yes, baby, yours, all yours.” Bucky’s hands scramble for purchase on Steve’s back as the possessiveness pours from Steve, overwhelms Bucky. He’d fought the pull— _shit, was it barely a week ago?_ —of Steve’s claim during his heat, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t _love_ it when Steve got like this, didn’t love the threatening undertones of Steve’s scent when all that territorial posturing was done _on his behalf_.

Steve leaves a trail of bites along his chest and shoulders—and now they are _bites_ , with _force_ and _intent_ behind them, not the gentle nips and nibbles he’d been leaving all along. It’s when his teeth graze over his claiming glands, not hard enough to break the skin and actually mark him, but with more pressure than Steve’s ever used before, that Bucky comes with a startled shout.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it, clench right up, hold me in there—fuck you feel so good, god _damn_ honey, oh shit—” Steve comes with a groan, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he drops his forehead to rest on Bucky’s chest.

“Yours,” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. Steve rumbles happily and tightens his hold on Bucky. Steve is adorably clingy after sex, always wanting to make sure that Bucky is okay, not hurt, and happy.

He’d felt guilty about liking it at first, like he wasn’t supposed to have this, wasn’t supposed to be so _soft_. But he’s been learning that softness isn’t always a bad thing.

***

Bucky exits the shower to find Steve still asleep in bed. After they’d fucked on the couch, they’d eaten a light dinner and then by unspoken agreement settled in to spend the night at the tower instead of returning to Bucky’s.

After watching a movie, they headed to bed and, yeah, Bucky was definitely sold on needing a bigger bed because Steve’s giant California King was _amazing_. The sex had been sweet and gentle, until Bucky was a sobbing mess from the emotions, Steve’s _‘I’ve been dreaming about spreading you out in my bed since the moment I first scented your vial’_ and other sentiments ringing in his ears while Bucky stared at the ceiling long after Steve’s breathing had leveled out into sleep.

So he’d carefully slid from Steve’s arms and showered, and now he’s wandering the floor, looking into the extra rooms and seeing that Steve was right, this was like a giant hotel room with no air of being a _home_. He’s about to head back to the living room when he spies a closed door at the end of the hallway when all the others are open. The faint light from the hallway follows him into the room and Bucky gasps.

“Jarvis, lights please,” he whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly in what is clearly a very personal space for Steve. The scent lingering in here is an odd mixture, evokes both sadness and joy in Bucky as he takes in the items around the room: framed newspaper clippings from the war, marriage, birth, and death announcements of names Bucky doesn’t know and others that he recognizes from the Howling Commandos, old notebooks with Steve’s now-familiar elegant script, advertisements for products no longer made, mementos of a life never lived, long dead yet very much alive and sleeping just down the hall.

A swell of pity and sympathy for Steve rises in him, clogs his throat as he fights tears. In all the time he’d spent learning about Steve as a kid, and then everything he’d studied about the man since he’d been found and thawed, he’d never stopped to consider how amazingly strong Steve must be to have adapted to the new century, new culture, new _everything_ without the comfort of anyone or anything familiar. This room clearly illustrates his struggle with that, the things he’d missed out on, friends he’d lost who hadn’t lived long enough to see him found. _“I realized how very lonely I was.”_ Steve’s words echo in Bucky’s brain as he trails his fingers over the glass of a frame, _CAPTAIN AMERICA FOUND ALIVE!!!_ shouting out from the front page headline of the _Post_.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Bucky whispers through his tears. “I’m here, baby.”

***

Bucky sits out on the balcony for a bit, wrapped in a blanket to ward against the chill at this height, to clear his head and his scent before he goes back to Steve. He doesn’t want him to freak out about Bucky’s second-hand sadness and tears when there’s nothing actually wrong with him.

“Jarvis?”

“Sir?”

Bucky eyed the pink tint on the horizon as the night gave way to dawn. “Does Steve have any food in the kitchen, or does he always order something from downstairs, like last night?”

“Captain Rogers has a fully stocked pantry, in addition to fresh produce, dairy, and meats at all times. The tower staff sees to it, as he initially was hesitant about shopping due to both the large amount of product available as well as the prices.”

Bucky presses his lips together in a sad smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, sir.”

Bucky knows that if Steve wakes up early, like he usually does, he’ll go back to sleep if Bucky is in bed with him. If he’s not, Steve will come looking. But Bucky has a plan. He’d spent plenty of time as a teenager cooking for his grandparents as they aged, and if there was one way he knew how to show Steve his feelings, it was with food.

“Jarvis? Is there any way to soundproof the bedroom so Steve doesn’t hear me? I don’t want to wake him up while I’m working in the kitchen.”

“That can be arranged.” There’s a slight pause, and then Jarvis continues. “Done. You are free to move about the floor without concern for waking the Captain.”

“Jarvis? Do you ever call him anything else? When he’s _not_ being Captain America?”

“I do not believe that I have, sir.”

“Maybe you could start? He’s Steve, too. Just like Tony is not always Iron Man, and Sam isn’t always Falcon. I didn’t hear you call _them_ by their monikers yesterday.”

“Point duly noted, sir. I shall amend my manner of address in further communications with _Mr._ Rogers.” If it was possible for a computer program to sound ashamed, then that was the tone in Jarvis’s voice.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Steve’s friends all seemed great and genuine for the most part, but if that room taught Bucky anything important about Steve, it’s that he didn’t know who he was in this century without Captain America. It was about time that someone showed him he was more than that. He’d had that connection with _Grant_ , when Steve was able to just be himself and hide his face. And since Bucky had found out the truth? What had he done? He’d fucking focused on his _abilities_ —his strength, his endurance, his ability to heal—instead of _him_. It was time to fix that.

On his way to the kitchen, he snags one of Steve’s t-shirts from the laundry room, twists his hair up into a bun and sticks a pencil through it to hold it in place, and gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took SUCH an unexpected and angsty twist as I was writing, I'm SORRY!!! But I think it works REALLY well and I like where this story is heading :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short pov switches here, but clearly noted -- both of these idiots wanted to tell what happened next so we had to compromise, lol.

“Okay, Jarvis. I don’t have any of my books with me. Is there a heads-up display in here or something, so you can display a recipe for me?”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes. What are you looking for?”

“Hmm. First, I need cinnamon rolls. Are there baking supplies as well as regular food?”

“You should find everything you need in the pantry. Baking needs are on the third shelf to your left. I’m bringing up a few most common recipes for you to choose from now.”

“Excellent, thanks.” Bucky inspects the pantry shelves and lets out a small moan. “Fuck maybe I will live here after all. I could get really used to this in a hurry.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing, J-man. Okay. So I’m also gonna want—do we have sausage in the fridge?”

“I believe there is some in the freezer.”

“Okay. Great. So, here’s what I need from you…”

~~~*~~~

Steve wakes slowly, which has become a pleasant new norm for him whenever he spends a night with Bucky. He stretches and rolls, reaching for the Omega, only to find the bed empty.

“Bucky?”

The silence of the apartment is deafening. Bucky’s not in the shower, and Steve can’t hear him _anywhere_ on the floor.

As a matter of fact, he can’t hear _anything._

“Jarvis!”

“Good morning, sir. How may I assist you?”

“What’s going on? Where’s Bucky?” Steve doesn’t _think_ that Bucky would have left in the middle of the night, not without telling him, not without a really good reason, even if yesterday had been a lot to deal with.

“Mr. Barnes has requested that you shower and then join him in the kitchen.”

“I…huh?” Steve freezes in place, half in and half out of the bed.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Barnes has requested I not tell you what he is doing, other than it is to be a surprise. He did not, however, tell me that I could not disengage the shutdown on the bedroom once you were awake.”

Sound floods back into the room. Steve listens for a moment before he relaxes back onto the bed and a smile curves his lips. He can hear Bucky working in the kitchen—a knife chopping something, then the sound of a whisk, the oven door opening and closing, the beeping of the microwave. He can faintly pick out the smell of bacon and cinnamon. There’s music playing, some band Steve can’t identify (although there are plenty of those, so that’s not saying much,) and Bucky is humming along, occasionally singing, as he works.

Steve’s apartment is filled with the sounds of home and smells like the combined scents of him and _his Omega_.

Sitting crossed-legged in the middle of his bed, sheet pooled at his waist, Steve bursts into tears.

~~~*~~~

Bucky catches a strong scent of hay and sunshine—Steve’s _really_ happy smell—and smiles as he reaches to pour a cup of coffee for him.

“Seeing you like this could give a man ideas,” Steve says a minute later, as his arms come around Bucky and he presses in tight behind him. Bucky laughs and leans to the side, twists his head around to give Steve a kiss.

“Morning, baby.”

Steve’s arms tighten and his scent gets thicker. Bucky hums, pleased with himself. During his epiphany overnight, he realized that he’d gone from calling ‘Grant’ _baby_ to calling Steve either by his name or using _Alpha_. And while the acknowledgement of that particular dynamic, and Bucky’s growing acceptance of his Omega nature, is good, he doesn’t want Steve to feel like they’ve lost their initial connection.

“What’s all this?”

“Breakfast.”

“There’s a lot of food here, sweetheart. You didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”

“Stevie, I grew up in farm country. This isn’t trouble. This is _normal_. Now take your coffee and sit so I can cook the eggs now that you’re up. Eat a cinnamon bun while you wait.”

Steve presses his lips to Bucky’s temple and stays there, holding him tightly. Bucky can feel Steve’s heart pounding, feel him trembling slightly as he struggles with whatever emotion is overcoming him at the moment.

“Thank you.” His voice is rough as he pulls away and sits at the other side of the kitchen island. Bucky remains silent, lets him gather himself, and lets his own scent do the talking for him. Steve has made comments about Bucky’s scent when he’s really happy or peaceful. He currently feels very pleased and content, and he knows that Steve can tell.

Behind him, Steve slides a plate over and starts eating.

_“Bucky,”_ Steve moans, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to hold back the laughter.

“Yes, baby?”

“There’s bacon and walnuts _inside_ the rolls. Oh my _god_.”

Bucky shrugs and tosses a glance over his shoulder to see Steve taking a giant bite of roll. “There weren’t any pecans.”

“Where did you get all this? What time did you get up?”

This time Bucky does laugh. “First, don’t talk with your mouth full. Second, _all_ of this was already in the kitchen. I didn’t have to get anything. Third, don’t worry about it.”

Steve narrows his eyes and gives Bucky a _look_. Bucky grins and turns back to the eggs. “Finish your cinnamon bun, baby. This is almost done.”

~~~*~~~

Bucky has made enough food to feed an army—or two supersoldiers—and Steve is in heaven, basking in the scent of content Omega. He’s never smelled Bucky this happy, and he has no idea what happened while he was sleeping. He’s also afraid to pry and ruin it, so he settles for stuffing his face.

“Bucky, this is _amazing_ ,” he gushes, genuinely impressed with his cooking abilities as he takes a second helping of biscuits and sausage gravy. He doesn’t miss the faint rosy blush that dusts Bucky’s cheeks, the way he bites his bottom lip, or the way he ducks his head to hide his reaction to the praise. But he can’t hide the spike in his scent, and Steve doubles down, wanting him to know just how happy he’s made Steve with all this.

“Honestly, sweetheart. This is wonderful. I better not let the rest of the team find out how well you can cook or they’ll never let you leave. Clint would eat pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if Natasha wasn’t around. Tony can’t cook to save his life. Sam can, but if he knows you can cook what he calls ‘soul feeding food’ he’ll try to steal you from me.”

“Stevie, it’s just _breakfast_.” Bucky tries to downplay it, pokes at the homefries and scrambled eggs on his plate. “Besides, Sam smells like a wet dog to me. He doesn’t have a prayer.”

“Uh huh. And what about the dinner you made me? Those cookies? Any of the other meals you’ve made us?” He shoves a slice of bacon in his mouth, ignoring the quip about Sam’s scent, despite how the statement strokes his Alpha ego. “How is the bacon so perfect? Mine always comes out like shit.”

“You gotta do it in the oven, not a frying pan like some heathen. And you use parchment paper.”

Steve smiles at him, shaking his head in disbelief, eyebrows raised. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t think it’s something anyone can just replicate. There’s something special, too. Something that only you can do…” He stops himself before he says something like _everything tastes better because it was made_ for me _by_ my _Omega_ , but he’s certainly thinking it and his scent must give him away if Bucky’s reaction is any indication. Because suddenly Bucky is staring at him, plump lips slightly parted, slack-jawed and eyes wide in awe of everything that Steve’s body is betraying.

Steve’s heart is damn near pounding out of his chest with how much he needs Bucky Barnes. How much he _loves_ him. He forces his gaze away from Bucky’s and takes another bite of bacon, focusing on how good everything tastes, needing Bucky to know that Steve sees this meal for what it is—Bucky’s declaration of _his_ feelings, because even that amazing dinner hadn’t tasted the way this does, and Bucky hadn’t smelled then the way he does now, and there was _no way_ Steve would fail in his duty as an Alpha to make sure that his Omega knows his gift was accepted and appreciated.

But if he eats a little faster than he normally would so that he can make sure Bucky knows just _how much_ it’s appreciated, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Because the last person who’d made him feel loved and cherished for _himself_ —Steve hadn’t missed the prolific return of ‘baby’ this morning, which admittedly made him feel some sort of way, but then there’d been a ‘ _Stevie’_ which, yeah, had lodged itself right in his heart—and not feel wanted just for being _Captain America_ had been his mother, and damn it, that was a long time ago.

~~~*~~~

Bucky swallows hard and sinks into his training.

_Slow breathing. Calm heartrate. Steady hands._

He hadn’t been prepared for Steve’s reaction. He’d thought he knew what to expect, but he’d been completely, utterly _wrong_ about what the scent of fulfilled Alpha— _his Alpha_ —was going to do him.

He knows that his body is giving him away, and while his first instinct is to curse his lack of suppressants and the overload of hormones in his system, he’s also extremely happy to know that _Steve_ is happy, and that it was his doing, _Bucky_ has pleased _Steve_ , and if the barely audible purr coming from Steve is any indication, he’s _immensely_ pleased.

Bucky clears his throat and casts a shy glance at Steve as he stands to get more coffee—and that’s _another_ thing, why is he suddenly so _insecure_? No. Fuck that noise. He didn’t spend all those years working to make himself into something new to get all blushing and squirming just because he did his fucking _job_ and _took care of his mate like he’s supposed—_ oh. _OH. Oh fuck._

“Buck? Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Bucky rouses himself from where he’s frozen in place at the counter.

“Yeah, baby, I’m good. Just thinkin’ about something, that’s all. You need more?” he asks, turning, hand on the pot still.

“No thanks, honey. I’m good. Why don’t you sit and rest? I’ll clean up. You were up early making all this.”

He brings some dishes to the sink and comes to stand in front of Bucky. Steve’s hands settle lightly on his hips, and Bucky lifts a hand to cup Steve’s neck, thumb stroking over the soft skin where his mark would go. Steve lets out a shaky breath as his eyes close, those obscenely long lashes dusting his cheeks, and he actually _whimpers_ when Bucky leans in to nuzzle over the spot, lips brushing ever so lightly over the glands. When he pulls back Steve is breathing heavily, panting as though he’d just run a marathon.

Bucky searches his face, his heartbeat matching Steve’s breathing. The unspoken words between them hang heavily in the air as it grows thick with their scents.

“Stevie, I—”

He’s cut off as Steve’s mouth slams into his, and his hands tighten on Bucky’s hips, lifting him effortlessly so that he’s perched on the counter. Bucky pulls frantically at Steve’s shirt, and he does the same to Bucky, so they break the kiss just long enough to tug their shirts off before they’re crashing back together.

“—so much, honey,” Steve breathes into his mouth, and Bucky _knows_ that he could be saying any number of things, but his brain isn’t online with the rest of his body and Bucky moans as he grinds against Steve and uses his heels to push Steve’s sweatpants down.

“Yes,” he answers, blindly agreeing to whatever Steve’s intended meaning is. “God, yes.”

Steve growls as he tears away the boxers Bucky has on— _at least they’re not his, but Steve’s_ , he thinks—and pulls Bucky forward on the counter so that he’s hanging off the edge, one arm wrapped around Steve’s neck, the other braced against the cool marble beneath him. Steve teases his cock through the slick coating Bucky’s hole before he grabs two large handfuls of Bucky’s ass and pulls him open, pushing inside with just the slightest drag that’s soon corrected by Bucky’s body.

“So perfect,” Steve moans, finding his mouth once more. “So good to me. _For_ me. God, how could I need anything else in my life?”

Bucky’s head falls back against the upper cabinets and he knows Steve isn’t talking about sex, even as he wraps his legs around Steve’s waist to get a better angle. Steve tightens his hold on Bucky and steps away from the counter. He turns, brings them back to the table and kicks a chair out of the way, shoving dishes aside as he sets Bucky down in the empty spot and they fall back.

“There’s a perfectly good couch not too far away,” Bucky teases, even as he rocks up into Steve’s thrust.

“Thought we were gonna scent up every room? We already took care of that couch yesterday.”

_“Fuck, baby…”_ Bucky curses. Steve leans in closer, one arm wrapping around Bucky’s shoulders to pull him tight. The other hand closes around his cock, stroking him in sync as Steve thrusts, fucking his slowly expanding knot into him.

“Bucky,” Steve moans, mouth leaving a stinging trail of kisses across his chest. “God, honey, I…” he trails off, visibly biting his lips to keep the words from escaping, and buries his face in Bucky’s neck.

“’S’okay, baby,” he pants, one hand tight in the hair at the back of Steve’s head, the other clamped around the edge of the table to keep himself from sliding. “You can— _hnngh, fuck—_ say it— _fuck, yes, right there—”_ Bucky comes with a cry, back arching as he tightens his hold on Steve.

Steve follows him with a groan and stills as his knot locks them together. “I love you,” he says, as he presses soft kisses along Bucky’s jaw. Bucky wraps his free arm around Steve’s back and turns his head to catch his mouth.

“Yes,” Bucky whispers against Steve’s lips.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! sorry for the longer than normal time between updates. My brain decided it was only going to think about a bottom professor!Steve getting railed by college student!Bucky and spit out a 6.5k short last week instead of working on this, lol. this chapter is also a little shorter than most, but the ending spot here was just too perfect and I didn't want to take away from it by making the chapter longer. thank you for your continued support!

After ‘the breakfast incident,’ as Bucky calls it, things take a subtle but clear shift. It’s been weeks of splitting time between the tower and Bucky’s apartment. Though he refuses to admit it, he secretly loves the tower and wouldn’t, actually, be against moving in there at some point. He _might_ even have been scoping out the bedroom and living room for the ideal nesting spot over the last few days.

He's on his way to the tower now, meeting Steve for dinner—they’re supposed to be going _out_ to an _actual restaurant_ on a real fucking _date_ because Steve is _old_ and Bucky can’t say no to him—when he hears his name being called.

“Matty!” Bucky smiles when he sees the man, gives him a slightly-stronger-than-necessary hug, and stands with his hand on Matt’s arm.

“Oh, so you _do_ remember my name!”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Matty! You know how it is—”

“Uh huh. Sure. I know. Soon as you found a better offer—”

“There was _no_ offer from you! This is _your_ loss!”

“Pretty sure I’d have lost the moment you met—”

He feels Matt tense, sees all laughter and ease drop from his body at the same time as Bucky registers a low growl and the scent of ozone behind him.

Steve is there.

And he’s _jealous_ and acting _territorial_.

It’s adorable.

Bucky laughs.

“Simmer down, baby. I want you to meet my friend Matt.” Bucky slings his arm over Matt’s shoulders as he turns to see Steve planted like a tree in the middle of the sidewalk, jaw clenched beneath the beard he’d regrown at Bucky’s request, eyes hard and assessing as he takes in Bucky’s easy familiarity with a man Steve doesn’t know.

“Thought you told me you didn’t have any friends in the city.” And _oh_ , that hard edge to his voice should _not_ be so sexy, because if Steve smells Bucky’s arousal he might get the wrong— “ _Bucky,”_ Steve growls, and oops, too late.

“Bucky, please,” Matt says, and it’s his gently persuasive lawyer voice. He pushes Bucky’s arm from his shoulders and holds his hand out vaguely in Steve’s direction and Bucky barely restrains a snort at the forced deception. “Mr. Rogers, I presume? It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. Bucky has told me so much about you.”

“Funny. Bucky’s never mentioned you before. I’m pretty sure I’d remember him having a blind friend.”

“Steve!” Bucky admonishes, the pissing match getting old quick now that Steve is basically insulting Matt. For God’s sake, Matt isn’t even an Alpha! Steve is being ridiculous.

Matt lifts his other hand and waves Bucky off gently, dismissing him. Bucky would be angry if he didn’t see the way Matt’s stance shifted, shoulders coming back and squaring, spine straightening.

“That’s because Bucky doesn’t see me as blind, _Captain._ And I _am_ Bucky’s friend. I’m the one who helped him with his… _injuries_ …a few weeks ago. Even went and got his Alpha, when he refused to ask for himself because he’s too damned stubborn for his own good.”

“Jesus, remind me to call you if I ever need a lawyer,” Bucky groans, and he sees the corner of Matt’s mouth twitch in response.

The thing is, _nothing_ Matt said really said much of anything. But his posture, his tone, the implications hinted at, and the pitch of his voice all clearly said _something else._

Steve blinks several times as he processes the words. His eyes travel up and down Matt’s body, linger on the cane, the set of his shoulders, the way Matt unerringly reaches out and grasps Bucky’s elbow without even looking.

“I’m very happy that _Shawn_ and _Grant_ met. I’ve never seen either of them happier.”

“How…?”

Matt’s lips twist into a wry grin.

“Chemicals. I’m pretty sure you’re somewhat familiar with that idea?”

Steve swallows heavily, and instead of saying anything else, he surges forward to pull Matt into a crushing hug.

“Thank you,” Steve says, voice rough, as Matt’s arms slowly come around Steve’s massive shoulders and pat him gently. Bucky does snort this time, enjoying Matt’s discomfort and Steve’s switch from overprotective German Shepard to overly happy Golden Retriever.

“I…I really don’t understand any of this, but thank you.” Steve pulls back, but keeps his hands on Matt’s shoulders.

“You can thank me by forgetting it. He found out by accident. I’m trusting you. Mostly because I don’t want to be crushed by you. But also because I think my Omega might not appreciate it, especially with his scheduled heat coming up next month.”

“You have…you didn’t tell me!” Bucky shoves Matt playfully.

Matt shrugs. “I haven’t seen you lately. And he has his own secrets to keep, so it’s all extremely quiet.” Matt tips his head and nods pointedly toward the tower behind Steve. “As I’m sure you both understand.”

“Preaching to the choir, Matty. We know all about the need for secrets and protecting them. Oh, by the way. I still owe you for all your help last month. I want you to know that I’m still available any time you need something _looked into_. My new situation hasn’t affected that. And my resources have increased, as well,” Bucky smirks, bumping against Steve’s side.

Matt laughs softly. “Good to know. You two enjoy your night.” He turns to leave, and then pauses, looks back over his shoulder. “By the way. Five days, Bucky.”

“God that is so fucking creepy!” Bucky laughs as he watches Matt walk away.

“Five days?” Steve asks.

Bucky clears his throat and bites his bottom lip as he looks up at Steve. “Every month, remember?”

“ _Oh.”_

*****

Despite his initial proclamation against it, he officially moves into the tower with Steve a month later, after his next heat.

The first heat after meeting the rest of the team, he’d asked Steve if they could spend it at the tower instead of his apartment, and of course Steve had said yes. Bucky turned one of the extra bedrooms into a giant, mostly permanent nest. They’d spent four days in there, any whim or desire Bucky had easily being met by the building’s resources, and it was the best, easiest heat he’d ever been through. He’d modified and rearranged and tweaked the nest, rebuilding it every time he felt the compulsion, Steve watching all the while with a fond smile on his face and an endless supply of pillows and blankets for him. 

Now, two months later, Bucky is in the gym at the actual Avengers facility, trying to burn off some excess energy while Steve and Nick and lots of other people are having a meeting about whether or not to allow Bucky to start training with the team and join them for light missions. Young Parker had taken one look at Bucky after all the evaluations and tests had been done and had shown him to the gym so he didn’t pace a hole in the floor of the hallway while he waited. The kid had even stayed, and they’re sparring together when the doors open and the STRIKE team walks in, with Brock tagging along in his street clothes. Peter takes advantage of Bucky’s distraction and catches him with a kick to the knee that sends Bucky to the mat. Thankfully, Steve, Natasha, and Fury come walking in as well just as he’s getting back to his feet.

“You okay buddy?” Peter asks, and Bucky ruffles his hair with a grin, trying not to show how Brock’s presence affects him. Nobody outside the actual Avengers team knows that Spiderman is an Omega—he uses specially formulated blockers and suppressants daily, only coming off them for a heat twice a year—and though Bucky knows that he’s supposed to treat him as a non-des or a Beta, he can’t help but feel a distinct connection with him as another enhanced Omega.

“S’all good, no worries.”

“See? What did I say? All you need to do is toss him around a bit to make him compliant,” Brock sneers as he comes closer, full of the swagger that only comes from overconfidence and overcompensation. “Good thing your apartment is reinforced, right Cap? I’m afraid I might have broken a few things in that shithole rat’s nest he lived in.”

The level of Alpha pheromones in the room skyrockets as Steve goes from looking overjoyed—and Bucky _had_ noticed the look on his face, and even Nat’s, when they’d come in, so he’s assuming that he was green-lit, and now he hates Brock even more for ruining his moment of celebration—to enraged in less than a heartbeat as he steps menacingly towards Brock.

Bucky immediately places himself between them, plasters his body to Steve’s as a few other members of the STRIKE team move to flank Brock, and Bucky assumes they’re also Alphas. He turns his back on them, instead puts his mouth to Steve’s ear, trying to get as much of his own calming scent into Steve’s nose as he can. Brock’s words really don’t faze him at this point, he’s overly used to the moron running his mouth, but that doesn’t mean shit to an Alpha who’s Omega has just been insulted.

“Stevie,” he says softly. “Baby. It’s okay. I’m okay. _Alpha._ Ignore him. Don’t give him what he wants. Breathe, baby. Smell me. I’m fine.”

Steve takes a shuddering breath and Bucky feels some of the tension leave his body, the sharp overtone of ozone and fire diminishing in Steve’s scent. He wraps an arm around Bucky’s lower back and buries his face in Bucky’s neck.

“I fucking hate him so much,” Steve whispers, low enough that only Bucky would hear.

“Shit, that was impressive,” Natasha murmurs as Steve releases him. Bucky takes a step back from Steve, but keeps a hand lightly on his arm.

“Yeah, sure, you can calm him down. But I still don’t see a mark on your neck, sugarbear. Told you. You ain’t the keeping kind. Nobody wants some oversized Omega with an attitude. Who’d want to put a pup in you? Huh? Not even your knight in shining blue spandex wants you around forever.”

Bucky drops a foot back and pivots in one fluid motion, arm already swinging as he turns, and he clocks Brock on the jaw in a vicious uppercut that literally knocks the man off his feet and sends him sprawling to his back a few feet away. There’s a flurry of motion as the two other STRIKE members are restrained, presumably by Peter and Natasha, though Bucky doesn’t bother to look as he stalks to Brock and stands with one heavy boot on his chest and a gun pointed at his forehead. Brock blinks rapidly and shakes his head side to side, trying to focus on Bucky above him.

“Open your mouth to me one more time. Please. I’m fucking _begging_ you. Because next time you do, I won’t be aiming for your dick and you _won’t_ recover from it. And I’m willing to bet that you won’t exactly be missed.”

“For the record,” Fury comments as he comes to squat down next to Brock’s head. “ _Agent_ Barnes is now your superior officer. If there’s going to be a problem with you taking orders from him, you know where the door is. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the updated tags! there is discussion of mpreg/breeding in this chapter. it's not a thing that is going to happen AT ALL, but it's talked about here and exists in this universe now for some reason when I hadn't been planning on it even *remotely*....

Bucky steps away from Brock with an “accidental” bump of his boot to Brock’s freshly broken jaw and turns to face Steve. Natasha and Peter release the STRIKE members and they scramble to help Brock up and get him to the other side of the gym.

Nick claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, grins at him, and walks out.

The scent of rain and asphalt and earth fills the air, and Bucky smirks, cocks an eyebrow at Steve, recognizing the smell of his Alpha’s arousal.

“You okay, there, baby?”

Steve is breathing heavily through his nose, eyes wild.

“At least take it to the bathroom, boys,” Natasha quips with a roll of her eyes.

With a low rumble, Steve does exactly that, grabbing Bucky’s arm by the wrist and dragging him from the gym. Bucky follows with a laugh.

“Oh, baby, you _absolutely_ have a competence kink,” Bucky breathes, as Steve slams his back against the wall and presses into him.

“So fucking proud of you,” Steve tells him between kisses. “Fuck that was so hot. Jesus, Bucky. Fucking love you so much. You are so amazing.” Steve’s large hand shoves into Bucky’s pants and wraps around his rapidly filling cock.

“Steve. Baby, are you really going to fuck me in a work bathroom?” Bucky asks as Steve licks and bites at Bucky’s neck and jaw. “I mean, I’m on board, believe me. I’m just trying to wrap my head around _you_ wanting to be this indecent.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and captures Bucky’s mouth in a fiery kiss.

“Sweetheart, who said anything about _fucking?”_

“What’re you—oh _fuck_.”

Steve sinks to the floor and Bucky’s head thunks against the wall as his eyes close and his hands scramble for purchase and find none. Steve _loves_ to eat Bucky out, buries his face in Bucky’s ass on a regular basis, and even more often when he’s in heat. But giving a blowjob? Bucky can count on one hand the number of times Steve’s mouth has been on his dick. He knows that watching will only make himself go off faster, but he can’t help it. As much as he loves to be fucked and have his ass played with—after all, it’s hardwired into his biology—this rare treat, the hot, wet heat of Steve’s mouth on Bucky’s cock, feels better than any knot, and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it.

Bucky’s had a few perfunctory blowjobs in the past from partners who’d played with him during foreplay, but none of them had been like Steve—never to completion, and never with the devotion and enthusiasm and attention that Steve gives to the task. Most Alphas assume that all Omegas care about is their ass, and that, coupled with Bucky’s size—because the serum enhanced everything, making his dick much larger than the average Omega’s—meant his cock went sadly neglected.

He threads his fingers softly through Steve’s hair as he looks down now. Steve is sucking him down with fervor, plump lips pink and shiny and stretched wide as he works to take Bucky fully. He swallows around him, and brings one hand up to slip two fingers into Bucky’s ass while his other works Bucky’s cock when Steve pulls back for air. Blue eyes, darkened from lust, look up to him, and Steve grins as he leans back in.

“Fuck, baby, feels so fucking good, oh my god…”

Steve hums as he sucks just the head, swirls his tongue around and teases through the slit while his fingers unerringly find Bucky’s prostate. Bucky lets out a deep moan as his head falls back, eyes closing on their own accord.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m not gonna…” he pants, rocking into Steve’s movements.

“Look at me,” Steve rasps, sucking in a breath and swallowing him back down. Bucky forces his eyes open again, catches sight of them in the mirror, sees an Alpha _on his knees before his Omega_ , and loses his control.

“Steve!” he cries, hand tightening in Steve’s hair, and Steve takes that as his cue to bury his nose in the soft curls against Bucky’s skin, taking him fully to the base, and drives his fingers into Bucky’s prostate. Bucky cries out, arches away from the wall, surging into Steve’s mouth even though he’s got no further room to go, and comes down Steve’s throat. Steve swallows automatically, the motions teasing and milking Bucky’s cock until he’s fully spent.

Gently, Steve backs off, tongue licking Bucky clean as he goes. When he’s free, sitting on his heels, Steve pulls his hand away from Bucky’s ass, brings it to his mouth, and sucks his fingers clean.

“Jesus,” Bucky exhales as his legs give out and he starts to slide down the wall. Steve laughs and catches him, pulls him onto his lap.

“You are amazing and I love you.” Steve talks softly into Bucky’s hair, because Bucky’s got his face buried in Steve’s neck—he’ll never get enough of Steve’s ‘extremely pleased Alpha’ scent, and right now Steve smells pretty damned proud of himself. “And if you want to talk about the things he said to you, I’m ready to whenever you are,” he adds a few moments later, with a press of his lips to Bucky’s head.

Bucky sighs and snuggles in closer, because he knows that means Steve _does_ want to talk about it and he definitely _doesn’t_. And especially not in the bathroom at work.

“Maybe later. At home. Not now.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

***

It’s a week later when Bucky finally brings it up. They’re in bed, Bucky curled into Steve’s side, with his head on his shoulder as he runs his fingers absently along the trail of hair between Steve’s pecs.

“You really want to claim me, don’t you? I can feel you fighting it sometimes.” The words are softly spoken, but he knows Steve is awake and can hear him.

The arm around his back tightens as Steve tenses for a moment before he gets himself under control. His body relaxes, but beneath his cheek, Bucky can feel Steve’s pulse racing.

“I’d never do that without your consent. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, baby. Why do you think I don’t stop you when you put your mouth on my neck?” Bucky sighs and stills his hand, placing his palm over Steve’s heart. “But that’s not why I asked. I know we’ve never talked about it…and we’ve also never used protection. I know it’s not supposed to happen if you’re not bonded, but…is that something you want?”

“Are you asking if I want a family with you?”

Bucky nods, unable to give voice to the words, not wanting to hear Steve’s answer and have his world come crashing down to a screeching halt. Steve is quiet for a moment, likely trying to assess Bucky’s mindset, sensing his distress, although he surely won’t be able to figure out the real reason for it.

“Bucky. _Sweetheart._ Look at me. Please.”

Bucky sniffs, fighting tears as he lifts his head. Of _course_ Steve would want to see his face for this, Bucky should have known he wouldn’t be able to get away with having this conversation in the dark so he wouldn’t have to see Steve’s heart break, see the disappointment on his face when he found out.

“Bucky. I love you. I would love to have a child with you someday. And only if you wanted that as well.” Steve pauses, eyes searching Bucky’s face as he gently cups his neck and strokes his thumb over Bucky’s claiming glands. “I hope this isn’t the wrong answer. But honestly? With the life we lead? Who we are? I have to admit, having a family is a dream, a fantasy. Reality is, any child of ours would never be safe. And it wouldn’t be fair to them to be raised in fear of losing one or both of us. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to ask you to give up who you are so I could knock you up and force you to stay home and raise a child. You couldn’t even give up fighting when you were in hiding. I’d hate for you to resent me for taking that from you before you were ready to give it up. I’ve been talking with Bruce about suppressants for me, so that when we had this conversation I’d be ready either way. There’s other options, until we decide that it’s time.”

Bucky whines, wants desperately to kiss Steve, but there’s one more thing—

“What if it’s never time? What if I _can’t_ have your child?” he whispers.

“What—? What do you mean, sweetheart?”

He drops his head, looks at his hand still over Steve’s heart, feels the way Steve still holds him close, and takes a deep breath before he continues.

“I could never give you that, Steve. The program—HYDRA—they…I’m sterile, Steve. That scar on my abdomen isn’t from a fight. It’s surgical. From when they…removed everything.”

In the blink of an eye, Bucky is on his back, his face and neck being covered in kisses.

“Bucky, Bucky, honey, I love you no matter what. I want you no matter what. Whether we have a family or don’t. I’m so sorry that choice was taken from you. They had no right.”

Bucky shrugs as best he can with Steve’s body on top of him.

“I didn’t expect to live this long, honestly. Certainly never thought I’d find someone I’d even consider mating and bonding with. Didn’t want to take the chance of passing on the Omega designation anyway, since I hated it so much myself. Without those parts, it was easier for them to formulate the suppressant for my heats, without having to add in a birth control aspect, and it helped alter my hormones to make it easier to add muscle. I agreed to it.”

“Oh, _sweetheart_.” Steve looks like he’s about to cry for Bucky, out of sympathy or whatever, and if that happens, all bets are off for Bucky’s self-control.

“Anyway, now that that’s settled, you will _not_ be going on any kind of suppressants, because if you think you’re going to deny me your ruts and the way you fuck me during them—”

Steve laughs half-heartedly. He still looks upset over what Bucky went through.

“Hey, listen. There are options, like you said. If we decide to, we could foster, or adopt. Or just be the world’s most awesome and amazing uncles _ever_ to Tony and Pepper’s kid and whoever else on the team ends up with kids.”

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Steve asks, looking at him with wonder and awe.

“Not in the last hour or so. Although I’m not sure telling me how amazing my ass feels around your cock counts as telling me how amazing _I_ am.”

This time Steve’s laugh is genuine, and the mood in the room has definitely lifted. Bucky pulls Steve in for a kiss that quickly grows heated. Bucky is just shifting his legs, angling his hips up so that Steve can slide in, when a soft chime overhead startles them.

“Please forgive me, sirs, I _do_ apologize for the interruption. But Mr. Rogers, your presence is required. There is an incident in Vancouver needing Avengers—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Okay. Be right there.”

Steve grabs Bucky’s cock and gives a strong tug as he steals another kiss.

“You take care of this for me and send me a picture later, hmm?”

Bucky laughs.

“Last time I sent you a sexy picture Nat yelled at me for distracting you.”

Steve nuzzles over his claiming glands and presses a tender kiss to the skin.

“I gotta run, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Go. I get it.” Bucky pushes Steve from the bed and gets the scent blockers from the medicine cabinet while Steve hurries to the closet.

“I wish you were coming with us,” Steve tells him, pulling on his uniform pants.

“I know. But I only just started training with everyone. I’m a liability. It makes sense for me to stay.” He follows Steve to the elevator and hands him the shield. “Be safe,” he says, pulling him in for a kiss. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” Steve answers, pressing one last kiss to Bucky’s mouth as the doors open.

Bucky watches the sleek metal slide closed, swallowing Steve up and whisking him away. He leans forward, forehead falling against the door, palms splayed to either side of his head, heart in his throat as he lets go of the sob he’d been restraining since they first heard Jarvis’s voice. They’d been so close…

“I love you.”


	23. Chapter 23

Steve’s head swims as he fights to regain consciousness. Bucky’s voice echoes in his ears. _Come back to me._ His brain keeps trying to convince him that he’d heard Bucky say _I love you_ , and he _knows_ that Bucky hasn’t said that to him yet, so he’s sure that he’s got a concussion somehow. Or whatever they’d used to knock him out was giving him hallucinations.

“Steve, wake up. Come on. Follow my voice.”

He shakes his head and tries to bring a hand up to rub at his eyes, but can’t move his arm.

“Sam?” he croaks, blinking his eyes. “Where’s Nat?” She’d been right next to him just before he’d gone down.

“Dunno. It’s you and me right now. Everyone else is MIA.”

“Excuse me? I’m here too, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, Tony, the whole fucking _building_ knows you’re here because you haven’t shut the fuck up.”

Steve focuses in on Sam, trying to figure out why they were in a cell together and Tony was apparently alone, even though Steve can see other cells lining the opposite wall.

“You can’t get a read on anyone else?”

“Nope,” Sam answers, popping the _p._ “All I can smell is your stanky ass.”

“Hah. Funny. You ain’t exactly smelling like lavender fields to me right now either, buddy.” He eyes Sam. “How come I’m restrained and you’re not?” His arms are bound together behind his back in thick bands of metal. His legs are bound together as well, just below his knees, and when he moves his arms he only gets so far before he’s stopped short by a chain or something that’s connected to the metal on his legs.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because I can’t punch through the walls or bend those bars like you can. Duh.”

Steve smirks. “Okay, shut up a second. Let me see if I can hear anything.” He cocks his head, and tips his nose towards the front of their cell to see what he can catch from his position lying on his side.

"What the hell? Wait. Are you two together? Why am I alone? This is bullshit!"

"Shut up, Tony," Sam grumbles.

"Tony, I'm guessing your suit is gone?" Steve asks.

"No. Well, sort of. I'm staring at the remains of my suit. It looks like they ripped it off with a can opener. There's no salvaging it. Smashed the core, too. They take your shield?"

"Yup. And Sam’s pack."

"Still doesn't explain why you're together and I'm alone."

"Because we don't have a cell big enough for three of you dipshits. And you're on suppressants when they aren't. So they're more fun to leave together," a distorted voice booms through the air, sounding like someone speaking with a mouth full of marbles while underwater. A moment later, the body to go with it appears. The man is large, as big as Steve, wearing all black. A mask covers his head, with two white lines forming an X across the face.

“And how would you know that?” Steve asks.

“Because I have a nose that works, moron. Plus we took the liberty of running some tests while you were all doing your best sleeping beauty impersonations. His levels are high, which means he just had another large dose. Your levels were nonexistent, so it was an easy choice. I’m interested to see what happens. I’m sure that you’d snap faster with Stark, he’s got a much more annoying mouth than Wilson, here, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Steve feels like he should know who this man is, like he should have known him at the fight in Vancouver, but he can’t place him, and it’s maddening.

“What do you want with us?” Sam asks.

“With you? Nothing, really. Not even with the loudmouth over there. Pretty-boy here is our prize. You two were just collateral damage. The pheromone cloud was designed to take down Alphas. America’s Man With a Plan is the real bait. Gonna net me a real sugar-sweet fish, too. Here. Have some food.” He throws a handful of protein bars into the cell, and delivers a few to Tony as well. “We want you at least partially alive when the cavalry comes charging in to save you.”

***

“Could you at least _try_ to get out of the restraints?”

“What the fuck do think I’ve been doing over here since I woke up? Playing fucking solitaire? I’ve _tried_. Do you think I _want_ to have you help me piss? Or fucking feed me? Like I’m a fucking invalid?” Steve clenches his jaw and glares at Sam as the man zips Steve’s pants back up for a third time.

“Stop fucking cursing at me or I’ll fucking let you piss your pants next time, asshole!”

“Guys, seriously, you need to calm down over—”

“ _Shut up, Tony!”_ they yell in unison.

***

“So does anyone know what happened to Shelob and Legolas?”

“I don’t even know what happened to _us._ Nat was right next to me, and then she wasn’t, then everything went black and I woke up here.”

“Same,” Sam adds. “I saw Tony going down, so I went after him to try to slow him down or something. Nat was heading for the building Clint was in. Then we woke up here.”

“I don’t like this,” Steve growls. “Something definitely doesn’t add up here.”

***

“Hey Tony?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“What’s it like being bonded?”

Tony takes so long to answer that Steve thinks he’s not going to.

“It’s the best thing in the world, buddy,” he says, and Steve hears the emotion in his voice and pretends he doesn’t hear him sniff or clear his throat before shuffling back to the other side of his cell and start moving around the pieces of his suit.

“I’ve got to get her something extra special for her birthday next week. You’re much more tolerable now that you two bonded.”

Tony lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, that’s the general consensus around town.”

***

“Steve?”

“ _What_ , Sam?”

“You fucking _stink_.”

“Bucky says you smell like a wet dog that rolled in garbage.”

“Fuck you.”

***

“Good morning, girls! It’s been three days. I’m starting to think maybe they’re not coming for you. Maybe they haven’t figured out where you are. I really thought that I left enough of a trail for that red-headed bitch to follow.”

“You could leave _no_ trail and she’d find you,” Sam grumbles, and Steve can’t help but grin in agreement.

“They’re not coming on _your_ terms, _Brock._ ”

“Aww, you’re getting slow, Cap! Took you this long to figure it out?”

“Yeah, well, your body matches the size of your ego now, and that’s a fairly drastic change for one week, so I guess you’ll have to cut me some slack.”

Rumlow laughs as he pulls his mask off, and Steve fights the urge to cringe. Whatever Brock did to himself did not have pleasant side effects.

“You going to tell us why we’re here, or what?” Tony asks.

“I told you. You guys are collateral. Rogers is the bait. The real prize will be here soon enough.”

“I don’t understand what this is about. Your evil villain plan seems pretty weak, I gotta say.”

“Tony, _shut up_ , for fuck’s sake!” Sam yells.

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve asks quietly. “Is that what this is? You think, what? That you lost him somehow? That he’d go back to you?”

Brock scoffs. “Fuck no. I don’t want him after you’ve been in him. Although I’m curious what you think of my sloppy seconds, Cap. Did I break him in enough for you? Loosen him up enough? Did you figure out yet that he can take you with no prep? That you can just fuck right into him when he’s in heat and he won’t even fight you because he’s so needy for that knot? But HYDRA wants him back. We spent a lot of money on him. He hasn’t worked that off yet.”

“If HYDRA wants him back, how come you didn’t pull him in a year ago when you found him?” Steve spits out. The thought of Brock touching Bucky makes his stomach churn. He usually does a good job forgetting about it, eidetic memory be damned, until Brock is in his face and gloating about it. Right now, he’s barely keeping himself together, barely avoiding the Alpha rage at the thought of Brock _violating_ Bucky like that.

“Oh, Cap. You’re supposed to be so smart. Such a brilliant tactician. We didn’t _need_ him then, because we were still _regrouping._ So I went in to keep an eye on him. Luck of the draw for me, really. But then he went and met _you_ , and _you_ fucked our timetable to hell and back so we had to move things up a bit.”

“So it wasn’t coincidence then, that you matched with him?”

“We’ve been using that site for years to get Omegas. It’s amazing what a desperate Omega will agree to. Sadly, most of them didn’t survive the process. And the ones who did, well…they had to be put down. That’s why we want Barnes back. When his profile popped up on our radar, several of us tried to match with him. We had to be careful to make sure that it was nobody who’d ever worked with him before, of course. I got lucky. In several ways, eh Cap?”

Steve growls and struggles against his restraints.

“Anyway, he’s dumb enough to come after you, even knowing where you are. So now we just wait.”

“Do you _ever_ stop running your mouth? Man, shut the hell up. Stop trying to piss him off more. I’m already dying from his stink. Don’t make it worse.”

Rumlow narrows his eyes and glares at them before he tugs his mask back on. He pulls a small aerosol can from his pocket and aims it towards them.

“Nighty-night, ladies.” He presses the button and in seconds, Steve’s head spins as his vision goes gray.

“Fuck, not aga—” Sam gets out before collapsing.

“…kill you…” Steve manages, before joining Sam on the floor.

****

******

Bucky normally gets jittery a few days before his heat, but the last two months have been even worse than usual. Being surrounded by his Alpha twenty-four-seven was making his biological drive to mate a constant _need_ burning just below his skin, and it got worse during his heat. He understands the whole neuro-chemical aspect of it, and yeah, he knows Steve is it for him, but a bite, a true mating bond, is a _permanent_ thing. There’s no divorce from bonding. It wasn’t something Bucky thought he was even remotely ready for until very recently.

Like, three days ago recent.

Three days ago when Steve left for a mission and then fucking _vanished_ along with some HYDRA goons and half the damned team.

So if he’s in the tower gym currently punching his way through his fourth bag in as many hours, he thinks it’s a bit understandable.

“Ooof! Lord you _stink_.”

“Fuck yourself,” he growls at Fury as the bag goes flying, landing next to its predecessors in a sand-and-reinforced-canvas mess.

“Here,” Nick says, tossing a bottle in his direction. Bucky catches it easily in one hand and looks at it like it’s a bomb as he hears the pills rattling around inside the plain white plastic container.

“What is this?” he asks between breaths.

“We decrypted a bunch of unnamed chemical compounds a while back when we got our hands on a boatload of HYDRA data. Took us a damned long time to figure out what they all were, after identifying components and ratios and then discerning their purposes.”

“What’s your fucking point?”

“Well, as near as Doctor Banner and our scientists can figure out, that’s a bottle of your suppressants in your hand. Fresh out of the lab about ten minutes ago. Want to pop a few and take a shower? So we can go kick some asses and get our boys back?”

Bucky grabs his water bottle and downs three pills as he heads for the door.

“Fuck the shower. Let’s go.”

“ _Barnes_. You _need_ to shower. Even with the filters in your suit, you _reek_ of distressed Omega and pre-heat hormones. Use the neutralizing wash in the locker room and then gear up.”

“I’m not _distressed,_ I’m _fucking pissed_ that I wasn’t _there_!”

“We leave in twenty. See you up on the party pad.” Nick sweeps out the door and Bucky heads for the showers, where he finds his suit (new and improved with tech from Tony) and most of the knives from his locker at the facility.

He saunters onto the Quinjet with two minutes to spare.

Fury eyes him up and down. “Glad you’re on our side now. Here’s the rest of your toys.”

“That’s not all of them.”

Nick raises his eyebrow. “Well, it’s what you had in the locker. I wasn’t sure what you might prefer.”

Bucky eyes the table full of guns and small explosives. “Is this a smash and grab, or a stealth op? What’s our target look like?”

“The usual. HYDRA bunker. Reinforced concrete, surveillance tech, all that. Natasha and Clint tracked them to it from Vancouver but the place is too big even for their skills.”

“Wait. Nat and Clint are there already, and can’t take it?”

“Colonel Rhodes is meeting us there. And we’ve got Bruce.”

“So my team is someone with no finesse, someone with no subtlety, and Nat and Clint. Where’s Peter?”

“Taking a final at ESU.”

Bucky rubs at his temple and closes his eyes. He’d kill to have Matt with him. But he knows if he calls him to see if he’s free, there’s no way that Fury won’t find out Daredevil’s identity, because he’ll absolutely look into it. A sudden realization hits him. If this was a HYDRA event in Vancouver, and Nat and Clint tracked them somewhere that those two couldn’t take themselves…

“Are they at The Canyon?”

“Uh-huh.”

“ _Fuck!”_ Bucky curses and clenches his fists. “They haven’t used that in forever. I thought it was defunct. I should have sent you guys there sooner. Okay. You’re making a pitstop. I need more than what we’ve got. My storage site.”

Nick nods once. “Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

***

“Okay listen. There’s a back entrance. That’s where they’re going to expect me to come in.”

“We haven’t found—”

Bucky cuts Natasha off with a look and points to a spot on the surveillance photo.

“There’s a back entrance. Rhodey and Bruce will come in that way, because I would expect the most resistance there, and you two can take it better than we can. I don’t want to blow the back entrance to bits from the start though, in case we need to get out that way.”

“That’s just rocks, man. There’s nothing there. We’ve scanned the entire area.” Clint crosses his arms and glares, as if to say _I looked myself._

“Uh huh. And they have technology too, remember? I’m telling you, it’s there and it’s cloaked. I’ve been through the fucking thing. Now, they’ve probably got the three of them separated, but the cells are still only a couple levels down. It’s all the shit below it that’s the problem. That’s where the labs and…other rooms are. We need to blow the place from the bottom up to make sure we get it all. Natasha—” He stops and looks up when he realizes the mood in the tiny motel room has changed. “What?”

“Is this where…when you…” Bruce looks at him sympathetically, and Bucky realizes that they’ve all had a few years to read the files, to piece together all the shady shit that HYDRA had done.

“Uh-uh. No. We are not talking about me and what happened here. We are getting Steve and Tony and Sam back and leaving a ten-story deep crater behind. Clint, Nat, and I will go in the front. Do we have any idea how many are here? How active this place is?”

“Based on what we’ve seen on some scans, we estimate about three dozen.” Natasha answers, inspecting her fingernails.

“Okay so then double that to be safe. There’s lots of people on the lower levels who likely never leave and the deeper you go the more difficult it is to get a clear picture because they have lots of blockers and jammers on the labs. Assume those three dozen are all guards and soldiers, grunts looking to get their hands dirty. There’s going to be about a dozen people on those lower levels _extremely_ interested in taking me back alive, so I’m not going any deeper than I have to once we find the guys. I’m counting on you two to clear those levels and set the charges.”

“Well, you seem to have this all planned out. Tell me, do you have a job for me?” Fury asks, and Bucky isn’t quite sure if his tone is condescending, teasing, curious, or something else.

Bucky scoffs. “I assumed you had your own agenda here. So your job is to stay alive and get out when we tell you to if you want a ride home with the rest of us.”

“Hah! See, I knew I liked you.”

“Natasha, do you know what happened? How they took the guys down? Why you two made it out?” Bucky asks.

Natasha swallows and her eyes flick almost imperceptibly to Clint. “I saw Stark going down, and Sam along with him. Clint indicated to me that something was in the air, so I was heading to check on him. I didn’t realize it was only targeting the Alphas because I was fine. I thought it was to take out the air support and Clint.”

“By the time Cap went down,” Clint adds, “We were both too far away to be much help. I tried to take them down, of course, but they had some sort of invisible shield. And then they launched some sort of gas that knocked us out, too. When we woke up, everyone was gone.”

“Rhodey? Bruce? I need to know right now if you have designations or not. I have masks that can filter out most gasses, but if you’re an Alpha or an Omega, I can’t block their targeted ones.”

Both men shook their heads to the negative, and Bucky relaxed slightly. “Okay. Good. No change in plans then. Rhodey, I assume that the suit has a filter?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Bruce? Do gasses affect the Hulk?” 

“Not usually.”

“Perfect. Okay, you three get some fashion upgrades. Merry Christmas. I’ll share with Stark later and we can maybe get some for everyone down the road.” Bucky passes over masks to Fury, Nat, and Clint. Natasha seems surprised that the one she receives conforms to her face.

“HYDRA has some tech that rivals Tony’s. He’d be pissed to find out how good they really are,” Bucky tells her with a grin.

“Baby, you look so hot in that,” Clint says in awe, staring perhaps a bit too hard at her.

Natasha winks at him and returns her attention to Bucky.

“Anything else we should know?” she asks.

“I think that’s it. We’ve got about an hour before sunset, so everyone go do whatever it is you do before a fight, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations!! I can promise you all that one of two _extremely_ anticipated events happens here!

Bruce and Rhodey encounter a sizeable defense upon entrance, as expected, but from the sounds of it they’re working their way through easily.

Fury had been on his six at first, following Bucky, Clint, and Nat in the front door, blasting his way along with them, until suddenly he wasn’t there. Bucky could still hear sounds of him fighting over the coms so he wasn’t overly concerned. Regardless of the fact that they were all facing opposition, he can’t shake the feeling that this was going _too_ smoothly. They were all good, yes, they were the fucking Avengers for fuck’s sake, but he didn’t like it. Something was wrong. Bucky knows HYDRA better than anyone fighting alongside him, and he knows when he gets that feeling in his gut, he needs to trust it.

Clint was highly valuable at clearing the hallways while Bucky and Nat swept through rooms, barely speaking a word to each other as they went but working seamlessly together, and yeah, Bucky could definitely get used to working with these two. Bucky comes out of one room carrying Wilson’s wingpack. Two rooms later, Nat appears with Steve’s shield on her back and Bucky pauses, momentarily thrown off by the appearance because she carries it like she’s done it for years, and it doesn’t even seem to affect her fighting.

“Jesus, I’m not into women, but _damn_ you are a lucky man, Clint.”

Clint snickers in his ear and Natasha winks at him as they meet up at the end of the hall. Easy fight or not, they’re still taking hits, and Nat has a cut on one cheek, Bucky has taken more than a few body shots that are going to be bruised to hell and back, and Clint has blood on him, though it’s up in the air as to whether it’s his or someone else’s.

“Hey boys. Going my way?”

Bucky laughs as he reaches for the handle and bows low. “Ladies first,” he says, gesturing with his free hand.

“She ain’t no lady,” comes Fury’s voice as the door opens. He’s already halfway down the stairs to the next level. “What took you guys so long? Let’s go. Rhodes and Hulk are in. The big guy is going to hang back and keep the upper floor clear.”

The four of them clamber down the stairs. Bucky peeks through the door on the next landing and confirms that it’s the floor he expects, one long corridor lined with cells.

“Hall is clear. Gimme the shield. You guys keep going, clear out below and set the charges. I’ll get these guys out. I want to get the fuck out of here.”

_“That would be great, I could definitely use a little help down here,”_ Rhodey chimes in.

Bucky tips his head to the door behind him. “Go on. I’ll send help if these guys are in any condition to do so.”

They split off and Bucky goes through the door, guns drawn just in case. There’s nobody waiting for him in the hallway and he’s honestly a bit suspicious about that. But he also knows what kind of possible condition the guys might be in, and he’d rather deal with that himself, first, before everyone else got there, and make sure that they blow this fucking nightmare place to hell when they leave.

“You guys sure are pretty quiet, considering the ruckus we’re making out there on your behalf,” he calls out, forced nonchalance in his tone.

“Barnes?”

Bucky sees hands wrap around some bars on his left and he steps forward to see Stark. He’s standing, and besides being overly scruffy and slightly drawn, he looks to be in decent shape, no worse than he’s looked after spending two days straight in his lab with no sleep.

It's equally promising and concerning. If they’ve been leaving Tony alone…

“Happy birthday. I brought you a present.” Bucky unclips a pouch from his belt and tosses it to Tony, who grins when he sees what it is.

“Hello, beautiful. I’ve missed you,” he says, and actually _kisses_ the object in his hand. “Barnes, it’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you alone?”

Bucky gestures toward the end of the hallway and the sounds of gunfire can be heard even through the concrete. “Does that sound like I’m alone?”

“Yeah, I get that, but why are you _in here_ alone? You know this is all a set-up, right?”

“No shit, Sherlock! That’s why I’m getting you guys and they’re getting ready to blow the lower levels! So we can all get the hell out together. I’m not stupid enough to go down there. I know they’ll jump at the chance to get me back. Now put that on and go help them while I get the other two.”

“Okay I just want it noted for the record that I tried to warn you.” Tony holds the pouch against his chest, taps a hidden button, and the pouch dissolves, nanotech spreading across his body, and in less than a minute he’s fully encased in his Iron Man suit. “Ahh, it feels good to be back.”

_“Tony! You good, man?”_ Rhodey calls out.

“Hey buddy! Where’s the party?”

“ _Two floors below you, if you’re feeling up to it.”_

“Oh I’m feeling it, pal.”

Bucky tips his head. “Door’s that way. I assume you can see yourself out?”

Tony lifts a hand and blows the door to his cell. “When you and Captain Grump rejoin society next week, let me know. I have a few toys you might be interested in.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. Tony’s words give him reassurance, though, loosening the dread in the pit of his stomach slightly. If Tony expects Steve to be okay, that must mean something…

“Anybody else awake down here?” He makes his way down the corridor, checking cells, and finally four cells down he finds Steve and Sam together. His heart stutters to see Steve essentially hogtied in metal cuffs and chains, apparently unconscious on the floor of the cell.

Sam is also out, but not restrained. Bucky can’t spot the control panel to unlock the doors, and doesn’t have the kind of patience for that right now, so he sets small explosives on the hinges and the lock. He’s able to easily rip the door off and toss it to the side after that.

As he enters, Sam starts to stir. Bucky checks on Steve first. He’s closest to the door, but if he’s being honest, even if Steve was fully conscious Bucky would still go to him first. Once he assures himself of Steve’s steady breathing and strong pulse, he goes to Sam.

“Hey, bird-brain, wake up. Come on. Time to get the worms.”

“Wha—? Oh, it’s you.”

Bucky chuckles. “Come on, man, up!” He helps Sam up to sit on the cot. “How are you? Any injuries?”

“Barnes, you gotta get out of here. They’re trying—”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a trap for me. I kinda figured that part already. Plus Stark warned me. Don’t worry. Everyone else is with me, too. They’re clearing the lower floors and then we’re blowing the place. Now, are you hurt?”

“Nah, they’ve been leaving us alone for the most part. Torturing me with being stuck with that stubborn mule, but otherwise, I’m good. I’ve been in worse situations, believe me.”

“Feel good enough to get out of here on your own? Your pack is just outside the cell.”

Sam smiles wide. “Hell yeah I do. You’re alright, Barnes. Even if you do think I smell like a wet dog.”

“That rolled in garbage. Don’t forget that part. It’s like the cherry on top of a sundae.”

“Hah!” He takes Bucky’s outstretched hand and stands.

“Here’s a new ear piece for ya, too. Party’s down a few levels. Bruce is up top.”

Sam nods and gestures towards Steve. “Get him out of here. We’ll take care of the rest of the place.”

Bucky watches Sam strap his wingpack on and roll out his shoulders as he heads for the end of the hallway.

_“Hope you guys saved some for me. I’ve got a few bones to pick with the management of this place,”_ Sam says over the coms, and Bucky grins as he turns back to Steve.

“Okay, baby, your turn. Let’s get you out of here.”

He rolls Steve to his side and uses the shield to smash the chain connecting his arms to his legs, and then shoots the clasps with a focused blast of a liquid nitrogen compound and smashes them as well. He’s massaging out Steve’s arms trying to gently restore unrestricted blood flow and ease cramped muscles when Steve goes from unconscious to fighting in the span of a heartbeat.

A surprisingly powerful punch—given Steve’s condition—sends Bucky sprawling back against the wall behind him. Some sort of instinct seems to alert Steve to the presence of his shield and it’s on Steve’s arm and crushing Bucky’s body to the wall before Bucky can even get a word out.

“Steve! It’s me! Stop!”

“Bullshit. The man I left would be in no condition to be here right now. And you have no scent. So you get an A for effort, because you’ve got the outfit right, but try again. Because you’re not him.” Bucky shoves Steve away, and the man comes right back swinging. “Whoever you are,” he snarls, “I won’t let you have him.” His hand closes around Bucky’s neck menacingly. Bucky can smell the rage lacing through Steve’s scent and groans because he’s going to have to get through to him somehow, force him to see that it’s really him. It doesn’t even make any _sense_ that someone would be trying to impersonate him to Steve right now, but that’s what his half-conscious brain had latched onto and it was bleeding into a fucking Alpha Rage and Bucky needed to shut that shit down _quick_.

“Steve, you stupid motherfucker, I promised I wouldn’t shoot you again and you’re making it _extremely_ difficult to keep that promise! Baby, _listen_ to me. _Please.”_ He loosens the hand around his neck and manages to twist Steve’s arm around and shift their position, so that he now has _Steve_ pinned against the wall. Steve growls and tries to regain the advantage, but three days of captivity in extreme restraints and definitely _not_ enough food have weakened him, and he seems to have used all his reserve against Bucky.

Bucky tightens his hold. “ _Think._ I am _here_. I am _real._ Fury gave me suppressants. You’re not wrong. I should be in our apartment, in preheat, ordering a ridiculous amount of food and obsessing over my nest. But I had to put that shit on hold to come save your stubborn ass. And you _know_ that I have filters and blockers in my suit.”

“Then take that mask off and prove it!”

“Are you getting fucking stupid in your old age? Christ, next time stay home with your fucking lap blankets in your goddamned recliner, grandpa! I’m not about to get gassed and knocked out and taken back in by these fuckers!”

“Aww, sugarbear, that breaks my heart to hear.”

Bucky’s blood runs cold at the words—Brock’s words, in what _almost_ sounds like Brock’s voice—and the assault of Brock’s scent, now tinged with something more acrid, something that screams _wrong_ and _danger_. And something in his brain clicks, like he should have known that Brock would be a member of HYDRA and behind all this somehow, because it makes perfect sense, looking back on the things Brock has said and done.

Steve growls and his scent spikes as he tries to push past Bucky to get at Brock. But Bucky already has drawn his gun, is already firing the moment Brock is in his peripheral vision. He shoots Brock six times, and six bullets strike ineffectually against the armor covering Brock’s considerably increased bulk.

Brock laughs and advances towards them, and only then does Bucky realize the scope of the situation: he’s _in the cell_ with Steve, and Brock can easily corner him. Bucky roars and charges Brock, lowering his shoulder and driving him back into the hallway, where he lands on his back. Bucky straddles Brock’s chest and pummels him while Brock simply laughs up at him. When Bucky pauses to catch his breath, Brock pulls off the ridiculous mask he’s wearing and Bucky can’t stop himself from physically recoiling.

“Jesus Christ, you were ugly before, but _what the fuck?_ You look like a rotten grapefruit.”

Brock’s skin is pockmarked and scarred, as if he’d been melted like a candle. He takes advantage of Bucky’s distraction to overpower him—easily, and that’s just fucking _terrifying_ considering the blows he’d been raining down onto the man’s skull—and rises to his knees, drawing a gun of his own.

“Terrigen,” Brock answers with a distorted grin. “It ain’t for everyone, but damn is it nice for those of us who can use it.”

“You _would_ survive the fucking mist. Is your superpower to look hideous on the outside, so it matches your personality?” Bucky groans as he spins himself around and takes out Brock’s gun arm with a kick. He pushes off the floor and throws himself at the man once more, knocking him back down as they grapple. They wrestle together, landing punches and kicks, each trying to gain the upper hand, until somehow they end up in a stalemate, each with a knife to the other’s throat.

“Go ahead, Brock. How bad do they want me back, huh? Not enough to care if you kill me? I’m willing to bet the answer to that is no. I bet, if you kill me, they’ll kill you. We can do this all day and end up in the same place a million times. You’re not going to hurt me permanently.” As if to emphasize his point, Bucky presses his knife harder against the disfigured skin of Brocks’ neck, drawing a faint trickle of blood. Brock tightens his hold on Bucky’s hair and tugs his head back, pressing his knife into Bucky’s throat in a similar manner.

“I’m willing to bet they wouldn’t care if I severed your vocal cords, shut that smart mouth of yours.”

Several things happen in quick succession at Brock’s words.

The first thing that Bucky registers is the sound of a gun being cocked. He barely has time to process that when he hears the shot. Immediately following that, he sees Brock’s eyes go wide as a spray of red washes over Bucky’s face. Brock’s hold on Bucky goes slack as he brings a hand to his neck.

There’s no containing the river of blood soaking the front of Brock’s clothing.

“I told you that I would kill you if you ever put your hands on him again,” Steve says. Bucky looks over to see Steve holding one of his guns, moderately unsteady on his feet as he makes his way over to them. Brock looks up at Steve wide-eyed as Steve levels the gun on Brock’s forehead and pulls the trigger again without even flinching.

Bucky looks between Steve and Brock’s body, still in Bucky’s hold, as Bucky’s chest heaves for breath. He lets the body fall, along with his knife, and he surges to his feet, yanking the mask off as he goes. His mouth is on Steve’s before his arms close around his neck, and fetid breath or not, Bucky doesn’t care, he kisses Steve for all he’s worth. Brock was dead.

_Brock was dead, and Steve had killed him._

“I love you,” he breathes against Steve’s lips. “I love you. I love you.” He repeats the words over and over between kisses. Steve’s arms come around his back, holding him close.

“I fucking warned him,” Steve growls, and Bucky lets out a laugh.

“Yes you did, baby. Fuck, that was so hot. Oh my god. You killed him. _For me._ ”

“You’re mine. I protect what’s mine.”

“Yes, baby, I’m yours. Only yours.” He cups Steve’s face and meets his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and what remains of the irises has darkened to a deep ocean blue. “Forever,” he adds, and lets one hand slide down the side of Steve’s neck, trailing his fingers over Steve’s claiming glands. Steve’s nostrils flare as he tries to scent Bucky. He growls, eyes narrowed, and claws at the leather covering Bucky’s wrist, trying to expose the small scent gland there, another frustrated sound coming from him when he doesn’t smell what he’s searching for.

“Soon as we’re home, baby, I’ll shower. The blockers and suppressants will be out of my system soon.”

Now that he’s been assured of Bucky’s safety, and their escape is seemingly imminent, the protective and possessive edge has left Steve’s scent. His eyes remain wild, though, almost feral, and as Steve’s scent clears and settles, Bucky suddenly understands as his own body begins to respond, despite the chemicals in his system.

“Oh, _Steve_. I’m going to get you out of here, okay baby? But you’ve got to fight it. I’ll take care of you, honey. I promise.”

Steve is about to go into rut.

He’s still a few hours out, but it is definitely happening. Bucky feels like an idiot for not realizing that it was coming. Steve had said his ruts typically hit every four to five months, and they were already at the extreme long end of that range since his last one. Bucky figured since Steve was _actually_ having sex now—and a whole fucking lot of it—that it had settled his hormones down a bit and he’d go longer between ruts. After all, with the amount of sex he and Steve had even when Bucky wasn’t in heat, Bucky had noticed his own cycle had begun to stretch out a bit by a few days longer. But he’d been so wrapped up in his own head, dealing with his own issues, that he’d completely forgotten that Steve has short-cycle ruts.

Bucky taps his coms piece. “Hey, how’s it looking there, guys?”

“Tony, Sam, and Rhodes are setting the last charges now, Nick is doing whatever it is that Nick is doing, Nat is collecting the Big Guy and I’m getting the jets fired up. How you doing, cupcake?” It’s Clint, and _thank fuck_ it was Clint and not Sam or Tony who’d called him that, because that would definitely have set Steve off again.

“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news,” he answers, slapping his mask back on just in case and leading Steve to the door. “Good news is, Steve is moving under his own power, despite being clearly undernourished since he typically eats about twenty million calories a day and we know he wasn’t getting that in here.”

“What’s the bad news?” Fury asks.

Bucky is almost dragging Steve up the stairs in his hurry to get the fuck out of Dodge. “Bad news is that he and I are getting on a jet and going straight to the tower, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, and forget being checked by medical.”

“That’s not exactly an option, _Agent_ Barnes.”

“I recognize your opinion on this topic, but given you don’t have all the facts involved in the making of my decision, I’m disregarding it.”

“Meaning?”

Two men come rushing out of an office at them and Bucky doesn’t even slow his pace as they head down the hallway, he just raises his arm and shoots them before Steve can even start in their direction.

“Meaning that by the time we get back to New York, Steve is going to be in full rut,” he answers Fury, without even skipping a beat. “I’ll run whatever scans I can do on the jet, and you can send whatever you want him to take for supplements to our floor at the tower, but he’s not going to make it to medical any time soon.”

Fury curses. “We’re right behind you. We’ll drop you two off. Give us a chance to check him and Sam over on the way back.”

“No. That’s not a good decision. You want to put an Alpha in rut, _with his unbonded Omega partner_ , into an enclosed space with another Alpha? Or Two Alphas? Did you _want_ a team left by the time we get to New York? Territorial issues aside, you guys bitch about how handsy we are with each other normally. Believe me, _nobody_ wants to be on that jet with us.”

There’s an awkward silence over the coms.

“Glad we’re all on the same page now,” he snarks as they round the bend and come up on the front door. A bullet whizzes past them and lands in the wall next to their heads. Before Bucky can look to see where it came from, Steve yanks him down and crouches over him, covering Bucky’s body with his own, the shield protecting them as much as possible.

Bucky peers over Steve’s shoulder and scans the opposite wall. There are no openings that he can find, no signs of any sensors or hidden panels. Another shot rings out and clips the edge of the shield. Bucky ducks his head just in time for the ricochet to hit millimeters from where he’d just been and Steve pulls himself tighter, shoves Bucky down further with a warning growl.

“What the fuck?” he whispers. “Steve, we can’t stay here, we gotta get on the plane. We gotta move. But I have no idea where those shots came from.”

_“On it,”_ Tony says, even as they hear the sounds of the suit flying through the air. “Huh. That’s impressive. I didn’t know turtleCap could manage to fit another full-grown man behind the shield with him.”

Steve snarls and Tony laughs as he stands in front of them. The only thing Bucky can see of him is his feet, Steve has him squished into such a tight ball. Red lines appear as a laser grid scans the hallway, and Tony makes a pleased sound.

“Found you,” he sing-songs, and blows a hole in the wall a few feet in from the entrance. The returning fire is immediate, but whoever is in there is no match for the Iron Man suit and silence settles on the hallway before the dust clears.

“If you guys are done messing around in there, we’re good out here,” Clint chimes in. “Already got Nat and Banner and Nick loaded. Your chariots await, gentlemen.”

Tony extends an arm and helps Steve up. When he reaches for Bucky, Steve growls threateningly and inserts himself between them, literally bumping his chest against the front of the suit. Bucky can _hear_ Tony’s eyes rolling along with the exasperated sigh that comes from Tony and he bites back a laugh.

“For fuck’s sake, Steve, _he’s bonded._ Calm your fucking dick and let him help.” He reaches around Steve’s body and grabs Tony’s arm to haul himself up from the floor. Once standing, he wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him to the doorway. “Come on, Captain Caveman. I need to get you away from society since you can’t act civilized.”

In his ear, Sam snickers.

_“Mine,”_ Steve rumbles.

“Yeah, trust me baby, they all know that. Let’s go.”

They’re gathered at the two jets a moment later, Steve and Bucky standing on the ramp to one, Sam having already claimed a seat inside the other with Nat and Bruce, and Tony and Rhodes standing outside the jets. Steve is pressed up behind Bucky, arms around his torso, grinding against his ass as he mouths at Bucky’s scent glands, trying to draw out the faint teases of Bucky’s scent making it past the blockers. Everyone is pretending that it’s not happening.

“Yeah, no offense, but I’ve done enough sitting around for the last three days, I’m not sitting on a jet for three hours when I can be home in less than that. I’ve got my own ride.” Tony lifts off and hovers in the air above them.

“And I’ll come with.” Rhodey immediately follows suit and joins Tony above them, the unspoken _to make sure you’re okay and make it back_ loud and clear to everyone.

“Barnes?” Fury asks, coming out to stand on the opposite ramp. “This was your party. Care to do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” Bucky growls as he pulls a small remote from one of his numerous pouches. The jets lift off, and Bucky doesn’t move from the ramp as the ground below them shakes in the light from the planes. His heart races as he watches the cavern grow, sees the earth heave and collapse, and the place that had been the cause of so much of the pain in Bucky's life crumbles to dust.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....that's it. that's the chapter. and a tiny bit of feels and angst thrown in. but mostly lots of bodily fluids...

The ramp is barely closed before Steve is on him in full force, tugging at buckles and zippers, trying to get to Bucky’s bare skin.

“Get your own damn clothes off first so I can check you over,” Bucky growls and shoves at him.

“Need to smell you. How long ago did you take them? I’ll fuck them right out of your system, help you burn them off. Fill you up with my come so you smell right again.”

In Bucky’s ear, a chorus of voices raise in protest.

_“Barnes turn your goddamned comms off!”_

_“Nobody wants to hear that!”_

_“For fuck’s sake, man!”_

_“Jesus Christ no. I’m turning my hearing aids off.”_

“Shit! Shit, sorry, guys!” Bucky paws at the device, turns it off and tosses it aside onto a shelf.

When he turns back, Steve has gotten his uniform off and literally ripped away his undershirt and boxers in the process. Bucky rolls his eyes with a stifled sigh.

“Drink,” he orders, shoving a water bottle at Steve and forcing him to a sitting position on their so-called exam table. The jets have a basic supply of first aid needs, and Bucky starts going through them now. Steve obliges him, upending the bottle and chugging it down while his free hand continues its quest to divest Bucky of his clothing. Bucky grabs said hand and sticks a sensor on one finger, while pricking another finger for a blood sample. “Jarvis, can you check his vitals please?” he asks, adding a ton of powdered supplements to a second and third bottle for Steve to drink.

Steve gets Bucky’s tac vest undone and starts pulling it off, getting it stuck on Bucky’s arm. Bucky huffs in exasperation and shrugs it off, to which Steve makes a pleased rumble and goes immediately for Bucky’s undershirt. The material is quickly ripped apart and Steve’s huge hands grip his sides tightly.

Bucky ignores what Steve is doing as he begins carefully cleaning Steve’s face and the abrasions on his cheek with some antiseptic wipes. If this were the extra large team jet, they’d have a tiny shower with a strong decontaminant cleanser, but it’s not, so he’s got to make do with what’s on hand.

“Aside from general dehydration, malnourishment, minor cuts and bruises, and the indication of rut, he appears to be uninjured, Agent Barnes,” Jarvis speaks up a moment later.

“That’s good, thank you, J.”

Fantastic. Now he’s got a filthy, horny, territorial Alpha to deal with and he needs them to wait until they get to the tower before they can fuck.

“Hey Jarvis? Can you do me a favor? Would you please contact Nonni’? Have him double my order for tomorrow, and repeat the double order for three days from now?” The last word comes out on a gasp as Steve’s fingers tweak one of Bucky’s nipples.

“Of course, sir. Any other special orders you’d like modified or placed?”

Bucky closes his eyes and fights the desire to lean into Steve’s touch.

“Probably gonna need a few more sets of sheets when this is all done.”

Steve growls, and Bucky realizes he probably should have been paying more attention to what he was doing when his eyes are startled open by a sudden wet heat across his abdomen. He looks down to see Steve fisting his own cock, holding it out as he comes all over Bucky and uses his free hand to smear it into Bucky’s skin.

“ _Mine_ ,” he says, leaning in, nostrils flaring as he smells himself on Bucky.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Steve. Let me finish cleaning you up first, what the _fuck_? You need to eat these goddamned bars, too. Otherwise you’ll be spending your rut in the fucking medbay on IV’s and suppressants when you pass out on me before we get home.”

“Don’t want to eat the bars. Want to eat _you_.” He emphasizes the word by tugging at Bucky’s pants and burying his face in the patch of hair he exposes. _“There_ you are,” Steve moans, and rubs his (thankfully cleaned) face back and forth across Bucky’s groin. “Smell so good, so sweet for me, sugar sweet, taste just as good, honey, _fuck_.”

Bucky’s hands clamp down on Steve’s shoulders as the man pulls first one side of his sack, and then the other, into his mouth, licking and sucking at his balls, hands holding tightly to Bucky’s ass to keep him from moving.

 _“Fuck!_ Jar—Jarvis! How long until we land?”

There’s a slight pause before Jarvis replies. “Based on current windspeeds, we should be arriving at the tower in approximately two hours and thirteen minutes.”

Bucky groans as Steve turns his attention from Bucky’s balls to his cock, licking and kissing his way to the tip, and then takes him down in one quick motion. He’d stop Steve, except the more attention he pays to Bucky’s cock, the more time he kills, and he’s hoping to get Steve calmed down enough to at least give him a chance to _talk_ to the man. Besides, he’s pretty sure there’s protein in come, so it can’t be all bad…and he’s also pretty sure that he deserves this reward for that rescue mission he just led.

Filthy or not, he lets a hand tangle in Steve’s hair as he exhales and rocks his hips in time with the bobs of Steve’s head. “Oh, fuck, baby, Stevie, feels so good, _god,_ yes…”

A pleased rumble echoes through the small space and Steve redoubles his efforts, shifts one hand around to spread Bucky’s cheeks while he prods at Bucky’s entrance with the other. He’s a little wet, sure, his body is definitely responding to what Steve is doing, but it’s absolutely not responding the way Steve is used to and he has no time to explain to Steve before two fingers shove roughly inside him.

“Steve!” Bucky cries, as pain sears white-hot through Bucky’s ass and he clamps down against the intrusion, tries uselessly to keep him at bay. Steve mistakes his pained cry for pleasure, pulls his fingers back and drives them in hard again, his rut-hazed mind not comprehending that Bucky hasn’t produced nearly enough slick for the way they’re used to fucking. It’s an odd sensation, because one finger is getting coated in slick while the other isn’t, and with every thrust of Steve’s hand the dry finger is dragging and pulling at his rim, sending twinges of pain in counterpoint to the pleasure of the other.

Goddamned suppressants.

Of _course_ the lab rats had seen the high levels and put two and two together, figured out that the unnamed formula was for Bucky, and Bucky had popped _three_ of those bitches not even twelve hours ago because he’d already been in preheat. He’d have to have a talk with the techs, have them find the formula that he’d been given for his honeypots, the one that suppressed his heat but not his scent and _didn’t_ inhibit his slick production, because he’s sure this won’t be the last mission that finds them fucking on a Quinjet afterwards, and he’d rather it didn’t hurt each time because his body couldn’t provide more than a trickle of slick.

“Jarvis,” he gasps. “Please have artificial slick sent to our room. Like, a whole fucking lot of it.”

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis replies, but Bucky barely hears him as he desperately tries to get Steve’s attention.

“Steve, baby, you gotta stop.” Bucky removes his hand from Steve’s head and wraps it around his forearm, tries to pull his hand away from Bucky’s ass because it hurts too much for him to let it go on. “Stevie, honey, please stop. _Alpha, please,_ ” he tries, letting his voice tremble, high-pitched and whining, but Steve has fallen too far down the spiral of the rage-rut, hormones and hindbrain screaming to _defend_ and _dick._ The _defend_ part has been handled, so now his body can only focus on _dick_ , and he’s got _his Omega_ in his hands, and Bucky understands all this, he’s overly knowledgeable about Alpha biochemistry, it’s how he was so damned successful on his honeypots, but he also _knows_ , with _absolute certainty_ that first, he does _not_ have to accept this treatment any longer because it’s _not his_ _job_ , and second, that Steve will _never_ forgive himself when his brain clears and he finds out that he hurt Bucky.

Bucky sucks in a trembling breath. “Stop,” he pleads, crying out when a third thick finger tries to join its mates agonizingly stretching inside Bucky. And Steve, bless his determination, hasn’t let up one iota on his mission to suck Bucky’s brains out of his dick, he’s still going to town on him, because an orgasm will trigger more slick and loosen his hole. But Bucky can’t let that happen, knows it still won’t be enough, so he steels himself, grinds his teeth as he tightens his hold on Steve’s wrist and slides his other hand from Steve’s shoulder to grasp firmly around his lover’s throat. He lets the fear flood his system, and it doesn’t take much effort to do so, half his brain already trying to fall back into that place of darkness, remembering rough treatments and more. He knows the fight-or-flight adrenaline will help his body burn through the scent blockers faster, and at least he can fix his scent if he can fix nothing else about his body right now— _who’d have ever thought Bucky would_ want _his heat right now?—_ to help get Steve’s attention.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he tightens the hand around Steve’s throat, and clamps down hard on Steve’s wrist. He feels bones shifting as he wrenches the hand away from his ass, registers the small snap and winces. But he can’t stop what he’s doing, so he makes a mental note to apologize for having overdone it and accidentally breaking one of Steve’s bones.

 _“ALPHA, STOP!”_ Bucky commands. And it _is_ a Command, something he’s only ever done one other time since the serum, using the Omega equivalent of the Alpha Command. He’d never have believed he’d need to use it against Steve, hadn’t considered it even after he’d shot the man and then he’d shown up at Bucky’s apartment. It’s not easy to do. Unlike the inherent ability of the Alpha Command, not every Omega can manage it, and it’s certainly not as universally effective or immediately followed, but Bucky had practiced and cultivated the skill as a teen, learned how to draw the pitch and timbre of his voice, flood his being with distress to instantly turn his scent sour. Unfortunately, he’d had plenty of need for it before the serum.

Steve recoils as if he’d been shot in the gut by a cannon.

Bucky instantly feels a stab of guilt, even though he knows he did nothing wrong, as he shoves Steve away. Steve’s own momentum combines with Bucky’s push, and Steve tumbles backwards, falls off the far side of the low table with a whine.

“Steve, baby, listen,” Bucky starts, falling to his knees in front of Steve and reaching for him. Steve flinches and backs away, his own scent muddling with distress and fear, eyes wide and clear, filling with tears.

“Bucky? Bucky, sweetheart, what…what did I do? I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, please, I’ll… Take me to the medbay. I’ll take the suppressants and ride it out. Just…lock yourself in the cockpit or something so I don’t hurt you again.” Steve has tucked himself into a corner and curled into a ball, one arm out to keep Bucky at bay, head buried and turned away, too scared to even look at Bucky.

“Steve, baby, no, that’s not… Look at me. Please.”

Steve lifts his head a fraction and looks at Bucky warily. Bucky’s heart breaks at the pain and guilt in his eyes.

“Baby. I’m sorry I had to do that. But I needed you to stop and you weren’t listening. I want you, believe me. I’d love to be on your dick right now. But Steve, the full-strength suppressants stop ninety-nine percent of my slick production. They were designed for extensive ops. And I took three of them to stop my heat because I didn’t know how long it would take to get you out. I physically cannot take your giant cock without being in a whole lot of pain. Unless there’s slick on these jets, which I kind of doubt.” He gently lays a hand on Steve’s arm and Steve makes a strangled noise.

“I hurt you.” It’s not a question.

Bucky hesitates a moment before answering. “Yes.” 

Steve makes a pained noise in response. “I’ll be okay, baby. I'm sorry I hurt your wrist, but I knew if I didn’t stop you soon, I wouldn’t have been able to, and neither of us would want that.”

Steve flexes the hand in question, rolls his wrist and doesn’t even flinch. He releases a hard breath and looks intently at Bucky.

"Doesn’t hurt. I'm sorry. Thank you for stopping me. And... I'm glad to know that you _can_ stop me. I've never been so crazed during a rut. And I'm not even fully in it yet! I don't know what's wrong with me. You should take me to medical. I'm not safe to be around you."

"Jesus you're an idiot. I love you. This is perfectly normal."

"How can this be normal? Are you saying that it's okay for Alphas to go around taking what they want from an Omega? For you to have to use your _Command_ with me? Because it's _not._ And I am _damned_ grateful to know that you _can_ do the Command."

Bucky can see Steve fighting himself, fighting to keep his head clear while his rut threatens to take over again. And, as if he needed further proof of what a good man he was, Steve made _that_ statement, just confirming that Bucky had made the right decision to use the Command, that Steve would never have forgiven himself. Bucky takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself so that he can help calm Steve and make him see that it’s not because Bucky doesn’t _want_ to have sex, it’s just not something they can rush right now.

 _"Steve._ The problem is that I don't smell right to you. You've never been around me without a scent, and you're in rut. You're trying to make me smell like you, trying to lay your mark on me, and that's _fine."_ He’s not even going to bother with trying to talk to Steve about rage-induced rut, because it’s such a rare phenomenon, but they’ve already proven that they’re not a typical pair—even if they’re not bonded yet.

“I—I can’t stand the thought of _him_ inside you. You’re _mine_ ,” Steve repeats, jaw clenched, looking like he's ready to fight the ghost of the man he just killed. “It’s like that’s all that is in my head right now. This need to _claim_ you, get my scent everywhere, inside and out, but especially…” Steve waves a hand helplessly, sighs in frustration. “My brain knows you can’t, but I keep thinking that I need to fill you, _breed_ you so that you’ll smell like me twenty-four-seven and no one will try to take you away again. And I know that’s just the hormones and the rut talking, but it’s like I can’t make myself stop.”

Bucky smiles softly. “Baby, I’m yours. Don’t you worry about that. And we’re gonna make it permanent. But I’ve got to tell you something—nobody else ever knew that I’m sterile. I have always used protection. _Always._ Until _you_. It never even crossed my mind, the first time we were together, to _not_ feel you inside me, to _not_ have your scent in every _cell_ of my body so I could drown in it after you left. Before I even considered the possibility of an actual relationship, let alone bonding with someone, I wanted to be yours.”

By the time Bucky finishes speaking, the sour tones lacing Steve’s scent are replaced by the scent of earth and rain and a feeling of warmth, and he comes easily into Bucky’s embrace this time when Bucky tries to pull him in.

“So let me take care of my Alpha, give you what you need as best I can, and once we’re home with some artificial slick to help, you can fuck me until you pass out, okay baby?” The words are spoken against Steve’s skin as Bucky noses over Steve’s claiming gland. He has intentionally kept himself away from the spot all this time they’ve been together, not wanting to give the man false hope. But he knows how much _he_ loves it when Steve teases at his glands, and his suspicions about how Steve will react are confirmed when Steve shudders and rocks into Bucky’s hold, hips rolling and grinding against Bucky’s torso as he moans.

“Trust me, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Bucky holds Steve’s head back, using the hand in his hair to control the angle of his neck so that he can easily shift between the sides, giving equal attention to claiming and scent glands alike, and wraps his other hand around their cocks, stroking them together. It doesn’t take long to get Steve to the edge of orgasm, not when he’s in rut, and Bucky uses that to his advantage.

“Come on, baby, come for me. Want to smell like you again. Want everyone to know who I belong to. Want everyone to know whose cock I get to ride whenever I want it. Whose knot makes me come so hard that I see stars.” He scrapes his teeth over Steve’s claiming gland. “Let them all know which Alpha is going to put his mark on my neck.”

Steve’s hands, which had been holding lightly onto Bucky’s sides, clench suddenly as he comes with a shout. Bucky strokes him through it, Steve’s come striping their chests and coating Bucky’s hand. Once Steve’s cock stops pulsing, Bucky brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean, then drags his fingers through the mess on his own chest and licks that off as well before he dips his head to clean Steve’s chest. Beneath his lips, he can feel the growl of approval rumbling through Steve. His hands grip Bucky so hard that he _knows_ he’s going to have bruises and he loves it, wishes they wouldn’t be gone by morning.

“See, baby? I’ll get you inside me somehow.”

Steve’s growl breaks free as he stands, hands still on Bucky’s waist, and he pulls Bucky with him. He lifts, and Bucky has no choice but to follow, wraps his legs around Steve’s waist.

“Steve!” he admonishes, and it does _not_ come out sounding squeaky, it’s just that he was startled, that’s all… “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be— _oof!_ ” The air is pushed from his lungs as Steve slams his back into the lockers.

“Mine,” is the answer he gets as Steve closes the distance and kisses him fiercely.

“Ahh, I see that higher brain functioning is losing the battle finally,” Bucky teases when they finally break for air. Steve pushes Bucky up higher, and Bucky spreads his arms out over the top the lockers for support as he finds his suddenly bare legs being draped over Steve’s shoulders. “Steve, what—oh _fuck_.” 

Steve’s hands spread Bucky wide and support his weight as he dives in, burying his face in Bucky’s ass. Bucky had never really had a preference one way or another about getting eaten out until the day Steve had tongue-fucked him senseless into a mind-blowing orgasm just inside the front door of Steve’s floor at the tower. It was even better now with the scrape of Steve’s beard along the sensitive skin, teasing him just as much as Steve’s teeth and mouth. 

Bucky drops more weight onto his shoulders, leans back in the limited space between his head and the walls of the jet as Steve lifts his hips higher, drives his tongue in deeper, and slides a thumb in as well, stretching his rim. Bucky can feel himself getting wet, can feel how smoothly Steve’s thumb begins to slide as his spit eases the way. 

“Fuck, Steve, _Alpha_ , I’m—”

Steve growls against Bucky’s skin and shifts his hand, slips a finger in to deftly find Bucky’s prostate and press against it as he continues to work his tongue over Bucky’s slick glands. Bucky comes with a shout, bracing one arm against the ceiling to keep himself from falling until he feels Steve pulling him down.

Steve wraps one arm around Bucky’s waist and with his free hand he starts stroking Bucky’s cock. Steve’s cock slides along Bucky’s perineum, coated with Steve’s spit and Bucky’s own nominal amount of slick, teasing at his hole but not threatening entrance.

“Again,” Steve orders, and Bucky’s helpless to not follow the demand, cries out and tightens his legs around Steve’s body as he adds to the mess on his stomach. “Open,” is the next command, and Bucky opens his eyes, only to realize that Steve’s got a hand at Bucky’s ass again, and he wants Bucky to unclench.

Carefully—and truthfully, more carefully than Bucky was expecting, given how hard the rut was hitting Steve now—Steve feels along Bucky’s entrance with a single finger. Steve makes a pleased sound and he slowly works first one, then two fingers in. Bucky is panting by the time the fingers disappear, longing for more but knowing he’s still not slick enough for Steve’s cock.

When Steve’s hand returns, Bucky feels a cool wetness being pushed inside him and his eyes fly open to see Steve wiping his own torso, collecting Bucky’s come and filling him with it. He continues until both of them have been wiped clean and Bucky’s ass is full of his own come.

Bucky’s chest heaves as anticipation and adrenaline floods his system. Steve takes the last bit of come and licks it off his fingers before taking himself in hand, slicking his cock up with the precome steadily escaping and adding to the mess between Bucky’s thighs. Steve lines himself up, the thick head of his cock pressed against Bucky’s hole. Bucky can _see_ Steve fighting himself, see the struggle it is to restrain himself, and fuck it’s so hot. He raises a single eyebrow at Bucky in question, and Bucky nods his assent.

“Slow,” Bucky rasps out, already feeling wrecked, wanting this as much as Steve. The fear of what might have happened to Steve, not knowing where he was, alive or dead, for three days, had rocked his world to the core, and he _needs_ to have Steve inside him, needs the reassurance that comes with the physical connection of sex.

Steve pushes in and Bucky bites his lip against the sting of the stretch, lets out a stuttered moan when their bodies are flush together and he can feel the hard length of Steve inside him.

“Fuck, baby, yes, there you are, better? God, you’re so fucking big. Fill me up so good, feel so fucking amazing inside me, like I was fucking made for your cock.” Bucky lets his mouth run, feeds into Steve’s Alpha brain, soothes the drive to stake his claim on Bucky, his need to have _his_ Omega on his dick, reassures Steve that Bucky _is_ Steve’s, that there’s no one else for Bucky.

Steve _purrs_ as he pulls back and slams in, driving Bucky into the already-dented locker at his back. Bucky cries out and lifts his arms from where they’d been wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, grabs onto the top of the lockers, and holds on tight.

“God, yes, fuck me baby, fill me, make me yours.”

Steve sets a brutal pace that has him coming in minutes, knot slamming into Bucky and locking them together.

 _“Steve!”_ Bucky cries, drawing his name out, keening as Steve fucks his knot over Bucky’s prostate, and _fuck_ but Bucky forgot that Steve’s knots during rut were impossibly bigger, and the already copious amounts of come are increased as well, because he just _has_ to over-achieve everything. Bucky’s orgasm is torn from him and he goes limp, trusts in Steve to hold him up as his cock continues to have small spurts while Steve fucks him through the orgasm and milks him.

He hates how quickly Steve deflates in rut, has gotten used to the extended knotting, the prolonged feeling of fullness and the endorphin high that accompanies that level of connection, and whimpers at the loss of pressure even as Steve’s thrusts increase in length once more.

“Fuck, yes baby, more, fill me up so it’s running out, fuck me full of your seed, your scent, claim me, mark me up inside and out.” 

Bucky’s mouth runs and Steve’s growl is downright _feral_ as he redoubles his efforts. Bucky’s body has long since adjusted past any lingering issues from a lack of slick, thanks to Steve’s come in addition to his own, and the sounds filling the jet are lewd and filthy, slapping skin and pants and groans and the wet squelching of Steve fucking his come right back out of Bucky. When he comes inside Bucky for the third time, Steve buries his face in Bucky’s neck, over his scent glands, and bites down. It's not hard enough to break the skin, but it’s close enough and sends a tremor through Bucky’s body as he makes a half-hearted attempt to come again himself.

Bucky threads a hand through Steve’s hair, holds and caresses him, scrapes his nails along Steve’s scalp as they remain frozen together, Steve’s motions stilled for the time being as he breathes in what he can of Bucky’s scent. 

“At home, baby. Once we’ve showered and eaten. Let my scent come back. Later. In our nest. Want you to be more calm, want you to remember it, honey," he says when Steve starts nosing at his claiming glands.

The tension drains from Steve’s body with a shudder, and Bucky recognizes the lull that comes between the waves of rut once Steve has had a handful of orgasms.

“Jarvis,” Steve calls out, voice gravelly and rough.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Please send Tony a case of scotch from me. And please, as soon as we’re home, lockdown our floor.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bucky gives Steve a questioning look. "Scotch?"

"It's a thing we… For years now. Whenever I owe him for something. Accidentally breaking something big, ruining a suit beyond repair, stuff like that."

"Defiling a Quinjet?" he teases with a smirk, and Steve's blush is answer enough. “Jarvis? How long until we land?”

“Current estimate is approximately thirty-two minutes, sirs.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Bucky tugs Steve’s head back and leans in for a kiss. “Come on, baby, time to get cleaned up a bit. And find some clothes. We can’t traipse through the tower naked.”


	26. Chapter 26

“You need to put pants on.”

“Nothing in here fits me. I looked.”

Bucky huffs and digs through the lockers, pulling out plenty of shirts and exactly one pair of pants that would fit. The problem with that is, they both need the same size in sweatpants and Bucky has _tried_ to get Steve to wear them, and then put his own tac pants back on, and Steve had damn near lost his mind over that because—

_“Filters,”_ Steve growled, ripping the pants from Bucky’s hand and tossing them across the jet. _“My_ Omega,” had been the follow-up, and Bucky stopped trying to wear his tac gear after that, because Steve wanted to be able to smell Bucky.

“Okay, fine. Look. There’s a gigantic shirt in here. I don’t know who the fuck it’s supposed to be for because it’s like, Hulk-sized, but I can wear this and it’ll go down to my thighs, so I’ll be covered, and then you wear the pants.”

Steve snarls in response. _“Mine. Covered.”_

Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fuck, Steve. You are _impossible_ at times when you’re in rut,” he sighs. “And I know you can string a full sentence together. You're just _trying_ to be difficult! Okay. You want me fully covered so nobody sees me, but I also can’t wear my tac suit. That means _you’re_ not wearing anything, then, and anyone around can see _you.”_

Steve shrugs. “The team has seen me naked before.”

“We’re going to the _tower,_ Steve! Not the facility! There are unsuspecting people here! Dealing with your nonsense is literally not in their job description.”

In the end, Bucky takes the giant shirt and ties it around Steve’s waist like a damned loincloth so that at least his ass, his cock, and _one_ hip is fully covered. He can’t get him to put a shirt on, and honestly, Bucky plans to drag him directly into the shower anyway, so he guesses it doesn’t matter. Steve doesn’t care at all because he won and Bucky is fully covered in pants and a shirt that is only slightly too big.

Bucky is just finishing up tying the shirt on Steve when the plane touches down on the landing pad. Before he can even turn his head towards the ramp, Steve has scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the _fuck,_ Steve? You know you’re only furthering your caveman image with behavior like this, right?”

Steve ignores him and strides down the ramp, long legs easily eating up the distance to the doors. Bucky picks his head up from where he’s hanging over Steve’s back, confused when the jet doesn’t power down but takes back off.

“What.”

It’s not a question, so much as a statement, though Bucky is plenty confused as he stares into the cockpit of the jet and into Clint’s eyes. Bucky raises his torso up, brings his closed fist to his chest, and circles it around, making the sign for _“I’m sorry”_ as he mouths the words, and adds _“I didn’t know_.” Clint’s hands move, sending back _“I hate you,”_ and Bucky nods, chuckling lightly.

_“I owe you one,”_ Bucky signs, as the doors close and Clint turns the jet back around to head for the facility with the rest of the team.

“Jarvis, why was Clint on the plane? I thought you were autopiloting us home.”

“As good as I am, sir, a physical pilot is required in the event of turbulence or some other unforeseen complication. Due to Agent Barton’s lack of a designation, he volunteered to be the pilot so as not to further affect Captain Rogers’ rut.”

“More like he drew the short straw,” Bucky says under his breath. “Steve, put me down already, for fuck’s sake.” It’s dark, the middle of the night still, so at least there are very few people who might be awake and moving about the floors.

Steve does finally let him down once they’re in the elevator, though he doesn’t let Bucky get very far. He’s crowded up into the corner, Steve’s face in his neck.

“You are taking a shower, brushing your teeth, eating something, and _sleeping_ before I’ll even consider it time for you to put your mark on me.”

Steve growls and presses his body closer. Bucky grabs Steve’s hair and tugs, pulls his head away from Bucky’s body and glares at him.

“We are _home_ now. We are _safe._ Now let me do my job as _your Omega_ and _take care of my Alpha._ ”

Steve deflates at Bucky’s words, and the wind is almost knocked out of Bucky’s chest as Steve collapses into him.

“Need you,” he says, breath shaky, as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky presses a kiss to the side of Steve’s head, fingers running soothingly through his hair and over his scalp. “Not going anywhere, baby. You’re stuck with me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and snuggles in closer.

“Come on, octo-Steve. Let’s get you in the shower.” Bucky disentangles himself from Steve’s clinging frame and pulls him by the hand onto their floor. Everyone on the team keeps such bizarre hours that Bucky knows the kitchen has at least one person working it all night long, so he doesn’t feel bad when he asks Jarvis to have a tray of sandwiches delivered as they make their way to the bathroom. Steve won’t be awake for much longer, and Bucky needs to get some actual food into him before he crashes. He can see the exhaustion starting to set in, despite the rut, now that they’re safe and back at the tower and Steve can let his guard down.

Alpha rage-induced ruts are hell on an Alpha’s system, hormones swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other in short order, brought on by an Alpha’s need to claim and protect that which they were driven mad to defend. Coupled with the fact that he’d been due for a regular rut, in addition to the confinement and the lack of nutrition, Steve’s body was burning itself out over Bucky. Now that they were back in their den, he could let it go and ride out the remainder of his rut in a more normal fashion.

Bucky strips down and follows Steve into the shower; knows that he needs the contact, needs to be within touching range of Bucky right now. Bucky sits Steve on the bench while he washes himself quickly, and then pulls Steve under the spray. He lets Bucky wash him, scrub him clean, slowly growing hard even as his eyelids droop.

“ _Omega_ ,” Steve sighs happily when Bucky falls to his knees and takes Steve’s cock into his mouth. “So good to me,” he murmurs, hands gently running through Bucky’s hair, not pushing or guiding, just petting and caressing. The orgasm is slow and quiet, Steve’s knot barely filling, and Bucky is sure that he’ll sleep the moment he gets him into their bed.

“Love you so much, so, _so_ much, sweetheart,” Steve slurs, bending down to kiss Bucky before he gets a chance to stand.

“I love you too, baby.”

Steve’s face lights up, smile spreading from ear to ear as Bucky rises from the warm tile floor and reaches behind Steve to turn the water off.

“You really do?” Steve asks, sounding drunk from the joy.

Bucky can’t help but laugh at how adorable Steve is right now. He’s been around plenty of Alphas in rut, seen them be everything from grumpy to angry to violent, but nothing had ever prepared him for Steve during rut. He’d thought the first time was an anomaly, given how long it had been since Steve had had a partner for his rut, but now he knows this is just how it’s going to be: Steve oscillating between sickeningly sweet, extraordinarily clingy, and horny as all get-out.

“Yeah, baby. I’ve told you that three times now since I pulled you out of that cell. Did it finally register in your brain?”

Steve continues to look at him with that dopey grin on his face, and looks like he’s about to cry.

“Come on, you big lug. You need to eat something before we go to bed.”

Steve inhales two wraps loaded with meats, veggies, and cheese, sitting naked at the table next to Bucky. The third is eaten at a much more sedate pace, one arm propped up on the table to support his head.

His head barely hits the pillow before he’s asleep.

***

The sun is slowly creeping up the horizon when Bucky is awoken to the feeling of Steve rutting against him, cock sliding along the cleft of his ass while Steve mouths at Bucky’s neck.

“Smell so good, smell right again,” he says, rubbing his face over Bucky’s scent glands. “Need you, sweetheart.” His hand slides down the front of Bucky’s body to wrap around his cock, gently encouraging him to harden.

“Gotta get the slick, baby, hang on.”

Steve growls as Bucky moves away, but Bucky knows that he’s still not producing enough slick, and likely won’t for another day or two. He grabs one of the prefilled tubes and inserts it, flinching when the cold liquid shoots inside him. Tossing it aside, he grabs a bottle and returns to push Steve onto his back.

“Let me do it, baby, okay?” Bucky pours some slick out and wraps his hand around Steve’s cock. Steve lets out a deep groan and rocks into the touch, hips lifting off the bed as he fucks into Bucky’s fist. “See? I’ve got you.” He straddles Steve’s waist and eases himself down onto him, body opening easily as he responds to his Alpha’s needs.

“Bucky!” Steve gasps, hands tight over Bucky’s hips, urging him to move faster.

“Hush, baby. I know. Just give me a second.” He smiles down at Steve, can see the lines still too deep on his face, and leans forward, cages Steve’s head with his arms. Steve shifts his hands to cup the sides of Bucky’s face and pulls him in for a kiss with an answering smile on his lips.

“Tell me again?” Steve asks, his whisper barely audible. Bucky rocks his hips and Steve moans into Bucky’s mouth, fingers tightening where they’re threaded through Bucky’s hair. Bucky pulls back enough to meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve’s face is calm, eyes clear, looking up at Bucky with that soft smile on his lips, a stark contrast to the way he’s fucking up into Bucky, meeting each roll of Bucky’s hips with a sharp thrust, driving himself as deep as he can at this angle. Bucky moves faster, breath coming in small pants, never taking his eyes from Steve’s. He knows when Steve is close, hears it in the soft whimpers and feels it in the way Steve’s hands clench and unclench where they hold his head.

“I love you.”

Steve comes with a full-bodied shudder, eyes sliding shut as his head tips back. Bucky buries his face in Steve’s neck over his scent glands and stills his hips. Steve’s knot fills and locks them together, and Bucky lets himself go limp, settling onto his Alpha’s body, knowing he can take Bucky’s weight. After a moment, Steve tries to slip a hand between them to finish Bucky off, but he pushes Steve’s arm away.

“Nuh-uh. I’m okay. Good like this,” he says, shaking his head. And he _was_ , though he had, indeed, gotten hard. “Suppressants mess with my system. Don’t need it. Promise I’m not lying.”

Steve grunts, a sound of disapproval but also acceptance, and pulls the blankets back up to cover them, wrapping his arms protectively around Bucky as they drift back off to sleep.

***

When Bucky wakes again, the sun has shifted higher, and a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand shows it to be shortly past noon. At some point while sleeping, he’d shifted off of Steve’s chest. Steve was still asleep, curled up on his side, looking much better than he had when they’d gotten home. Bucky carefully slides out from under Steve’s arm and grabs his boxers on his way to the kitchen.

“Jarvis, can you dampen the bedroom? Not fully, though.”

“Of course, sir. Your delivery should be arriving shortly, as well.”

“Oh, good. I could use some quick carbs.”

He’s just gotten the coffee going when he hears the ding of the elevator, and Bucky happily opens the door to find a startled Clint holding a giant box.

“Oh. Hey, man. I was just gonna leave this outside your door. I didn’t know you guys were awake…”

“I’m awake. He’s sleeping. Listen, I, uh…think I owe you an apology? I kind of assumed Jarvis was autopiloting us home…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I am going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry. Cannoncini?” Bucky asks, opening the lid of the box and holding it out to Clint after grabbing a pastry for himself.

“What the hell is that? I don’t know the names of all this stuff. Looks good though. Oh, hey, what’s this pizza-looking thing?”

Bucky sighs. “You need to expand your horizons, Clint. That’s a focaccia bread. The cannoncini are the little horn-shaped things that are full of cream.” Bucky struggles to keep a straight face as Clint studies the box a moment, only to look up and see Bucky licking said cream out of the pastry in his hand.

“You know what, _fuck you_. You’re an asshole. I’m sorry I ever said that I liked you.” Bucky’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as Clint shoves a hand into the box. “Just for that, I’m taking this pizza-thing. You’re welcome for the safe ride home and your damned delivery.”

Bucky lets the laughter out as Clint storms back to the elevator, a middle finger thrown over his shoulder as he goes.

Stuffing another pastry in his face—this time a cornetto—Bucky makes his way to the kitchen and begins unpacking the delivery. Once all the meats and cheeses and finger foods are put away, he piles a platter high with pastries and fruit tortes and downs a third cup of coffee. Before he can second-guess himself, he grabs his phone and heads for the nesting room.

“’lo, thank you for calling _la Gioia_ , how can I help you?”

Bucky smiles at the warm voice. “Hey, _Nonni’_ , it’s Bucky.”

“Bucky! Everything is good? You get your delivery, yes? No problems? What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, _Nonni’_ ,” Bucky laughs. “I wanted to thank you. I know the tower is a bit farther than you normally deliver, so I appreciate it. And for doubling it on short notice.”

“For you, anything. You know that.”

“I had asked for another delivery in a few days—”

“Yes, you still want that one too?”

“Yeah but I don’t think it needs to be doubled. He’s doing better than I thought he would now that I’ve got him home.”

_Nonni’_ drops his voice. “I see the news,” he says. “About Canada. And then, _niente._ Nothing. No statement after. I knew something happened. But, you take good care of him, eh? He is good now? You are good?”

“Yes, _Nonni’._ We’re both okay. I wanted to ask you, though. For my next delivery. I know it’s not something you always have, but I…if I can…” He breaks off, chews his bottom lip as he eyes the carefully arranged blankets and pillows, and the extra special touches he’d added when Steve had first left for the mission.

_“Mio Dio,_ spit it out! I no have all day, even for you!”

“Ginetti. Or Sospiri di Ozieri.”

_Nonni’_ gasps. “Yes?”

Bucky nods, even though he knows the other man can’t see him over the phone.

“Yeah, _Nonni’._ It’s time.”

“For you, I make them myself. I am so happy for you, my boy. I knew, when I met him, he was the one. I told you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yes, _Nonni’_ , you were right.”

“You come by, after. With him.”

“Yes, _Nonni’._ We will. Thank you.”

After the conversation ends, he returns to the kitchen to grab the tray of sweets and a cup of coffee for Steve along with a fresh cup for himself, then moves to the bedroom. Steve is still sound asleep, and Bucky doesn’t have it in him to wake the man up. He sets their breakfast—never mind that it’s after noon—down on the window bay and heads for the shower.

He's lost in thought, head buried under the spray, when Steve’s hands on his hips startle him.

“Waking up to fresh pastries from _Nonni’_ and coffee is almost worth waking to an empty bed,” Steve says as he nuzzles the back of Bucky’s neck. Bucky hums and leans back into the hard wall of Steve’s chest, twisting awkwardly to kiss him, and smiles when he tastes the powdered sugar on Steve’s lips and the sweetness on his tongue. “How do you feel?” Steve asks, and Bucky knows that he’s talking about the suppressants.

“Mmm. I stocked the bathroom with slick while you were sleeping,” he answers. “It’s still going to be another day until I’m back to normal.”

“Smell so sugar-sweet, even in here with the water and everything. Pre-heat is starting back up.” Steve’s large hands slide from Bucky’s hip as he speaks, and he begins prodding at his hole. Bucky’s natural slick production has gotten better, his body burning through the suppressants faster in the presence of an Alpha in rut, but he knows he’s not making enough yet still. Steve palms Bucky’s ass, spreads his cheeks wide, and is able to slide a thumb easily inside. Bucky falls forward, braces his arms against the tile, and lets a small moan escape as Steve’s other thumb joins the first, stretching him open.

“Wanna know something, sweetheart? I woke up thinking about you. ’Bout how good you are to me. How you take care of me. Got me real hard, thinking how this sweet hole feels around me, how much I love fucking you. I slicked myself up real good, too, ’fore I came in here. Just in case I needed it.”

_“Fuck,”_ Bucky gasps, pushing his ass back into Steve’s grip. Horny-as-fuck Steve was in charge, and that meant all Bucky could do was hold on for the ride—and it was _always_ worth the price of admission for this particular ride.

Steve pushes in, thick cock pressing in alongside his thumbs, the added stretch burning in the best of ways. He bottoms out with a groan, but doesn’t remove his thumbs. Instead, Steve pulls back out, holding him wide open, and drives back in.

“Fuck, look at that,” he says, pulling out once more but keeping his hands in place. “It’s all mine, isn’t it, sweetheart? My sweet hole to fuck and fill? You’d let me just fuck you like this, wouldn’t you? Just holding you open so I can fuck right in, drive my cock nice and deep every time, watch my seed leak out after I breed you up?”

Bucky’s cock jumps where it hangs hard and neglected between his legs. _“Alpha,”_ he whines. _“Please.”_ He knows that half of Steve’s words are being driven by the last vestiges of his rut, but they still have the desired effects on Bucky.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, need it, need your cock, your knot…” Steve slams into him with a growl, driving Bucky’s body forward with the force. “God, yes, that’s it, harder, _fuck…”_

Steve finally pulls his thumbs free and his hands grab Bucky’s waist hard enough to bruise as he pulls Bucky back onto his cock with each thrust. After a moment, Steve turns them to face the bench and one hand roughly pushes down between Bucky’s shoulder blades, bending him in half. He throws his hands out to catch himself, and Steve plants one foot on the bench, driving down into Bucky impossibly deep, hitting Bucky’s prostate on each thrust.

Bucky’s pulse roars in his ears as the blood rushes to his head and he’s overwhelmed by the feel of Steve’s cock in his ass. He knows he comes at some point because he hears Steve’s words of approval, and then the pressure on his rim increases as Steve comes and his knot fills and he fucks another orgasm out of Bucky.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it, take it, gonna fill you up, c’mon honey tighten up, hold me in. Fuck, I’m gonna buy you a plug, keep you full of me, full of my scent, all the time.”

Bucky slowly raises his body to a more horizontal position, wraps an arm around Steve’s calf and rests his head on Steve’s knee.

“Anything you want, baby,” he finally manages to say, and Steve’s chuckle is accompanied by a hand gently stroking his back.

“God, you’re amazing. The things you let me do to you…”

“Right, because they’re so torturous to endure.” Out of the water as they are, Bucky can smell Steve’s extremely pleased and happy sunny scent, barely tinged with the hint of rut. “Feeling better, baby?”

“Mmm. Yes. Thank you. For everything.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I love you. ’S’my job to take care of you. Just like you take care of me. I like it. I want to do it.”

Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat, and Bucky is glad he can’t see his face. “I swear to god if you’re crying because of what I said I’m going to eat all the chocolate cannoli.”

Steve laughs even as he sniffles. “You’ll eat them all anyway.”

“True.”

Steve’s cock has softened enough for him to slip from Bucky, and it never ceases to amaze Bucky how sometimes Steve can just keep going for hours like the fucking energizer bunny, but other times he’s one-and-done. Now, he turns and sits on the bench and pulls Bucky onto his lap.

“Should we get cleaned up and go see how many of those pastries we can eat in one sitting?”

“Mmm, got some other stuff from him, too. In the fridge. You definitely need to eat more food still. And we have other things to discuss, if you’re feeling more clear-headed now.” Bucky drops his gaze to Steve’s neck, trails his fingers over Steve’s claiming glands before wrapping both hands around the sides of Steve’s neck, thumbs stroking both claiming and scent glands alike. Steve’s eyelids flutter, and under his palm, Bucky feels Steve’s pulse kick up.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, poor Clint, lol!
> 
> For reference (and because I made myself hungry again while writing this chapter) these are the items Bucky talks about. Of course, all cookies and pastries will vary by region and recipe, so these are examples of common looks:
> 
> Cannoncini:  
> 
> 
> Cornetto:  
> 
> 
> Focaccia come in a zillion varieties, but here's an example that poor Clint could confuse for pizza ;)  
> 
> 
> the other two that he orders....well, that's going to be explained in the next chapter, but they look like this:
> 
> Ginetti:  
> 
> 
> Sospiri di Orizieri:  
> 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looooong chapter for you, but it's the moment we've all been waiting for!!! also, check the updated tags: almost-fisting and fist-as-a-knot fucking...

A day and a half later, Bucky wakes up fully in heat. He finds Steve in the kitchen preparing multiple trays of food.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready. I noticed the change in your scent as soon as I woke up, so I thought I’d prepare. Save us time later.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes travel over his mostly-naked body, or that they linger on his neck, before he turns back to his work.

“Did you want to shower first? Or make any last-minute adjustments?” Steve asks.

Bucky eyes Steve, dressed in only his boxers and a loose-fitting t-shirt that he knows Bucky will have soon enough. Bucky had refused to let Steve shower last night and insisted he sleep in the shirt, and Steve had simply smiled knowingly and agreed. He _does_ want to shower, wants to be perfect for Steve, and now that Steve asked about it, he needs to check on the nest one last time, even though he’d been in there yesterday about five hundred times. And Steve, patient, wonderful, amazing Steve, won’t even go near the _door_ to the nesting room without Bucky’s invitation, because he is the _best_ Alpha Bucky has ever known and he fucking loves him _so much_ and it’s all so overwhelming but amazing and he doesn’t know how he ended up with him and…

Steve is looking at him, butt braced against the counter, arms crossed over that huge chest, a smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Steve’s eyes crinkle in amusement as the grin spreads across his face. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure you’re the equivalent of the ‘heart eyes emoji’ right now, the way you’re looking at me. Which is adorable, don’t get me wrong, because I love how sweet you get in heat. But it’s also distracting and I don’t want to ruin your plans. Go. Do what you need to and let me know when you want me to join you.”

He knows Steve is right, that if he kisses Steve now it will ruin all his plans, but he really, really wants to because there he went just illustrating all his points about why he’s the best Alpha. But instead, he grabs a cup of coffee and shoves the last cornetto in his mouth and heads for the shower. He doesn’t bother getting dressed once he’s done, having used the shower in the small en-suite in the nesting room, and then checks one last time to make sure everything is _exactly_ the way he wants it.

Once Steve has seen Bucky’s _mating_ nest—which is _so_ much more important than their usual nest—they’ll bring the rest of the food down to fill the fridge in there in addition to what Bucky has already packed it with. Steve had immediately gotten the second fridge as soon as he’d realized Bucky intended to make the room a permanent nest, despite Bucky’s protests that it wasn’t that long of a walk to the kitchen. _“Don’t wanna be away from you any longer than necessary, sweetheart. In case you need me for something,”_ he’d said, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead and tossing the nightstands out the front door. The only items remaining from the original guest room now are the mattress (which had become the base of the nest) some chairs and lamps, and the dresser filled with clothing they never bothered to wear but kept in there for emergency need.

Bucky’s stomach churns with a mix of anxiety and excitement as he thinks about their conversation the day before and fusses with the way the sheer fabric of the “door” falls from the pole propping it up.

_“Steve, I know you want to make this permanent. I think you have from the start, even before we knew the truth of who the other was.”_

_“I knew you were the one for me the moment I opened your scent vial,” Steve answered, tucking a stray hair behind Bucky’s ear._

_“Yeah. I tried to deny our connection for so long, but… You’ve made me into a better version of myself. Someone I thought I’d never be. And I don’t want to ever be without you. That fucking terrifies me, you have no idea how much it does. That we’ve become so intertwined. When you were captured, all I could think was that I’d been too much of a coward to tell you that I loved you before you left. And that if the worst happened, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”_

_“Bucky, sweetheart, even if you had never said the words, I knew.”_

_“But it’s not the same. Stop trying to tell me it is. I’d burn the world down for you, Steve. I want to be with you always. I want your mark on my neck. Those are things I never thought I’d say, let alone feel the truth of in every cell of my body. And I’m telling you this now, before I’m in heat, and while you’re not in rut. If you think I haven’t thought this through a million times over the last few months then you’re an idiot. I know what I am asking for.”_

The conversation had been followed by amazing sex, of course, though Steve hadn’t bitten him then. Bucky wanted to wait for his heat. _“We know it’s close, baby. Want to do it right. When my body is the most receptive. I don’t know what effect the serum will have on it, and I don’t want to take any chances of it not working.”_

Bucky stepped back from the nest with a deep breath. Barely a year ago, he’d have laughed until he cried, until he couldn’t breathe, if someone had told him he’d be planning and obsessing over this moment, would have _asked_ an Alpha for his bite of his own free will, would be an actual member of the actual _Avengers_ and living in the tower.

“Jarvis?” he asks softly.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Please let us know when the delivery arrives? Other than that, we’ll need a complete lock down for the next few days.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I inform the delivery person to leave it in the kitchen, as you will be otherwise engaged in this room?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Very good, sir. And, if I may, I would like to offer my congratulations to yourself and Mr. Rogers. A bit early, as it is.”

Bucky smiles as he chews his bottom lip. Jarvis had been quite helpful in getting items Bucky needed delivered and kept hidden from Steve.

“Thanks, J. And thanks again for all your help. Okay. Start the lockdown, please.” Bucky feels the nervous energy spreading through his system and knows it’s not just nerves anymore but his heat growing insistent, demanding attention. He needs to get fucked soon, if the sensation of slick gathering is any indication. He slips out the door to go find Steve. He’s where Bucky had left him, in the kitchen, just finishing washing up the few dishes that had been scattered about.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’ve got the coffee all set, too, so we just have to turn it on later whenever we—”

Bucky cuts Steve off with a kiss.

“I love you,” he tells Steve when they finally part. He holds Steve’s face in his hands and makes hard eye contact with him. “I’m probably going to tell you that a million more times in the next few days, and I’m sure I’m going to cry because I’m feeling extremely vulnerable and emotional right now. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think that anything is wrong, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. Thank you for being so open with me. I will fully admit that I am nervous as hell, too. I know how much this means. The kind of trust and faith you are putting in me. I promise you, I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to be worthy of this gift you are giving me.”

“Goddamn you, don’t make me cry already!” Bucky huffs, wiping at the errant tear running down his cheek. Steve follows Bucky’s hand with his lips, kissing both of Bucky’s cheeks before pressing their foreheads together.

“Are we ready? Do you want me to see the nest now?”

Bucky nods, swallows past the lump in his throat, and takes Steve’s hand as they go down the hall.

“Oh, _sweetheart_. Bucky, this is amazing.” Bucky’s heart swells with pride at the obvious joy on Steve’s face, the wonder and awe with which he takes in the room. Bucky had spent more than a few hours online, reading about and looking at pictures of _mating_ nests, seeing how other Omegas had made the event special when it had been planned in advance, and to know that his hard work has paid off and is appreciated helps settle the somersaults his stomach has been doing.

Steve pauses just outside the entrance of the nest proper, taking in the curtains and the multitude of strings of white lights lining the inside of the nest, softened with yards and yards of sheer fabric, giving the room an ethereal glow. The sun is up, but Bucky has dimmed the tinting on the glass so that Steve could get the full effect now. “You’ve been quite busy in here,” he adds, turning back to Bucky and sweeping him into a crushing embrace.

“Told you I’ve been thinking about this. Wanted to get it right. Wanted it to be perfect.”

“It _is_ perfect, sweetheart. And so are you.” Steve kisses him gently, and Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s neck as the kiss slowly deepens until Steve pulls back just enough to speak. “Can I see the inside? Are you ready?” he asks, then dives right back into the kiss.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky answers a minute later in the same fashion. Steve doesn’t push, doesn’t rush him, just waits for Bucky to take the lead and move them to the nest, which he does a minute later, slowly walking backwards as they kiss. The kissing is a welcome distraction, something to focus on instead of what’s about to happen.

He feels the fabric brush against his skin and breaks the kiss long enough to duck inside and settle onto the blankets, pulling Steve with him. Steve pauses on his knees and holds the hem of the t-shirt, one eyebrow raised in question. Bucky smiles and nods, stretches his arm out, and Steve pulls the shirt off with a grin and hands it to him. Bucky carefully spreads the shirt out over a pillow so that when he’s on his stomach he can bury his face in Steve’s scent. When he’s done, he finds Steve settled comfortably on his back, taking in the nest.

“This is really nice, sweetheart. Very comfortable. You did a great job, making a special nest for us.” He pulls Bucky in for a kiss, gently guiding Bucky’s body until he’s on top of Steve. “You are in charge here, okay? You say when. It doesn’t have to happen immediately. Hell, you can change your mind completely and say no, not this time, and that’s fine too, okay? I know you’re mine and I’m yours and that’s all that matters.”

Bucky sucks in a shaky breath and strokes a hand over Steve’s jaw. “How are you so perfect?”

“Not perfect, sweetheart. _Yours_. And that means understanding and accepting without question. I will be anything you need me to be. I will be yours in any way that you want me. Whether we bond or don’t.”

A small sound escapes him and he rocks his hips, giving into the heat. “Need you,” he gasps. Steve rumbles, the small space filling with the scent of sunshine and fresh air.

“Need to get the edge off first, sweetheart? You’ve been fighting it. I know you have. So good for me. Wanting to please me, even when you’re in heat. Such a good Omega.”

“Alpha! Alpha, please,” he pleads, legs tightening around Steve’s waist as the praise warms him.

“You think you’re ready for me, honey? Did you loosen yourself up in the shower? Or did you save that for me? Do I get to lick up all that sweet nectar, fuck you on my tongue and my fingers first until you come, so I can lick that up too?”

Bucky can’t even speak, an inarticulate noise tearing from him as his cock jumps and his ass clenches. The world tilts as Steve flips them with a growl, Bucky falling to his back and finding his knees bent up all the way to his ears by the time he registers the hot push of Steve’s tongue into his eager and waiting hole.

“Goddamn, I could spend your whole heat with my face buried in your ass, sweetheart. You have no fucking _idea_ how good you smell and taste to me. ’S fucking ambrosia, honey, fucking drink of the _gods_ , I’m telling you.”

“Steve!” Bucky keens, and Steve slides two fingers in easily, the pressure just enough to satisfy the ache a bit.

“Fuck, honey, so wet for me already, look at that. Just let me right in, you need it so bad. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Steve holds Bucky’s legs back with one arm as his head dips back down, mouth and fingers working together to quickly bring Bucky to the edge of orgasm.

“Oh god, Steve, Alpha, fuck, please…” They’ve had sex multiple times a day for the past few days, yet Bucky is still panting for it, begging for the release like it’s been years. Steve drops Bucky’s legs and his head moves up, that wicked tongue licking from Bucky’s hole to the tip of his cock before his mouth closes around it, swallowing him down as his fingers—four of them, now—twist and slip around inside Bucky, knuckles working his prostate in simulation of a knot, and Bucky comes with a hoarse cry. Steve curls his fingers, making a fist, and Bucky registers the feel of Steve’s thumb pressed flush against his perineum as the remainder of his hand slowly works back and forth, milking Bucky’s orgasm the way he does normally with his knot. Steve’s mouth never leaves Bucky’s cock, until Bucky is sobbing from the overstimulation, gasping and writhing beneath Steve.

He's about to grab a handful of hair and pull Steve off of him when Steve lifts his head. Bucky’s cock falls against his stomach with a wet smack, still hard thanks to the serum and Steve’s hand against his prostate. Slowly, Steve uncurls his fingers and a tremor runs through Bucky at the sensation.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky exhales, head still swimming. He opens his eyes to find Steve looking hungrily up at him, and he clenches around the fingers still inside him in response. “Alpha,” he says softly, reaching a hand down, and Steve leans into it, rubbing his cheek against Bucky’s palm like a cat. Bucky _does_ thread his fingers through Steve’s hair now, gently pulls him up, and Steve comes easily. Their lips meet, and Bucky can taste himself on Steve’s tongue, wondering not for the first time what he tastes like to Steve, because it doesn’t seem like anything to wax poetic about the way Steve has a habit of.

“Better?” Steve asks, and Bucky can feel the smile against his lips.

“Mmm, yeah. How come you’ve never done that thing with your hand before?”

Steve laughs softly, hot puffs of air against his cheek as his mouth moves along Bucky’s jaw. “Thought you might like that.” He nips at Bucky’s earlobe before grazing his teeth over Bucky’s scent gland, sending goosebumps racing across Bucky’s skin. Bucky shifts his legs as Steve pulls his hand free and settles his body over Bucky’s, their lips meeting once more. He rocks up into him and is startled to feel fabric and see that Steve still has his boxers on.

“What—get these off!”

“Easy, sweetheart. I didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Well, now _I’m_ distracted. _Off._ ”

Steve quickly complies and Bucky licks his lips as he watches Steve settle on his knees between Bucky’s thighs and reach a hand forward. He drags his fingers through the copious amounts of slick coating Bucky and then fists his own cock, covering himself in slick before he drops down to one arm and lines his cock up with Bucky’s entrance. He slides in easily, slowly, takes his time, and it’s both perfect and maddeningly frustrating. Bucky is torn between a desire to flip Steve over and ride him until the sun sets, and to just rock together, barely moving, bodies only a hair’s-breadth apart.

He decides on the second option.

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Steve’s pace is slow and steady, his stomach teasing along Bucky’s cock, providing just the right amount of friction to keep Bucky riled up and on edge but not enough to send him over as they kiss lazily. One particularly well-aimed roll of Steve’s hips makes Bucky arch his back with a moan, tip his head back and expose his neck. Steve licks over Bucky’s claiming gland before closing his lips over the skin and sucking. Bucky comes with a startled cry and feels Steve’s answering rumble vibrate through his body.

“There you go, sweetheart. Gonna make you nice and relaxed, honey. There’s no rush.” Steve pulls back and taps at Bucky’s hip. Bucky rolls over and Steve pulls him up to his knees, drives back in with a groan.

There’s nothing like the way Steve fucks into him like this, when they’re giving into their most base biological instincts and Bucky is in a position of submission, body lax, _allowing_ his Alpha to dominate him, to move him and use him as he desires. Bucky’s heats have never been as amazing as since he started seeing Steve, and he recognizes now it’s because of the implicit and total trust he has in Steve, the way he can just let himself go and let Steve take control, knowing he’s not giving _in_ , but simply _giving_ , and what he receives is more precious to him than any gem, any amount of money, _anything_ , for how much he’d never known he needed it, for how much he’d tried to replace it with the armor he’d encased his heart in.

“Steve,” he gasps once he’s found his voice again, thick and strangled with emotion as it is, while tears stream down his cheeks. He pulls himself against Steve’s hold and twists around, and Steve is startled but instantly concerned, lets go of him and pulls out immediately.

“Bucky? Sweetheart, what—?”

Bucky cuts him off before he can finish, pushes Steve to sit on his heels and climbs onto his lap, slams his mouth into Steve’s as he reaches back with one hand to guide Steve’s cock back inside while his other arm holds tight around his shoulders.

“Need you,” he breathes, face buried in Steve’s neck. “Always.”

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s back with a groan. “I’m here. Always. ’Til the end of the line, honey.”

Bucky slides a hand into the hair at the back of Steve’s head and tugs, tips Steve’s head to the side, and bites down on Steve’s claiming gland. He puts force into it, sinks his teeth into the tender skin until the taste of copper floods his mouth, the scent of ozone floods his nose, Steve’s cries fill his ears, and he feels Steve come, knot filling and locking them together. Steve’s arms are like a vice, crushing Bucky to him as he trembles through the orgasm while Bucky’s teeth remain lodged in Steve’s neck. 

Bucky is sucked into a tidal wave of emotions, caught in the undertow that is the pure, undiluted devotion and certainty that is Steve’s love for him, the depths of which overwhelm him as a feeling he can only describe as _Steve_ permeates his entire being. He can _feel_ Steve’s wonder and amazement at what just happened; he _knows_ the joy that is threatening to burst Steve’s heart the way Bucky just burst his claiming gland is the cause of Steve’s body vibrating beneath him. He tears his mouth from Steve’s neck, terrified that he’ll lose that connection—as frightening as it is—but needing to kiss the man he’d just claimed as his mate. He doesn’t even know if the drive is coming from himself or Steve, but he knows it doesn’t matter.

“I love you,” Steve tells him between kisses, and it’s a chorus ringing in his head, words marching along to the cadence of Steve’s heartbeat—a heartbeat that he can feel in his chest just as strong and sure as his own.

Bucky looks at the trickle of blood running down Steve’s neck and leans in to lick it away. Steve shudders, and his cock twitches inside of Bucky. Liquid fire courses through Bucky, an echo of the way Steve’s body is reacting to the swipe of Bucky’s tongue over the open edges of the bite.

“Bucky! Bucky, Bucky, oh _fuck_ , fuck, honey…” Steve gasps and moans, hands digging into Bucky’s back as Bucky rocks his hips frantically while he continues to lick and kiss at Steve’s neck. They come at the same time with matching cries, Bucky making a mess of their stomachs while Steve fills Bucky once more.

“Well. That’s a neat party trick.” Bucky rests his forehead against Steve’s as they catch their breath. Steve chuckles at his comment and tips his face up to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips. His hands roam Bucky’s body, stroking and petting.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers under his breath.

“What’s that?”

“You’re just…so _happy_. I can _feel_ it.”

“’Course I’m happy, sweetheart. How could I not be? You just put your mark on my neck and made me yours forever.”

Bucky hums and closes his eyes, basking in the utter contentment Steve was feeling. “God, it’s amazing. I almost feel bad for you.”

“You feel bad for me because I’m happy?”

“No, I feel bad for you because I’m a grumpy fuck and you’re definitely going to be getting the shitty end of the stick here.”

Steve’s startled laugh shakes them both. “If that’s supposed to change my mind, it’s not going to work.”

“God I hope not, or it’s going to look really weird in public if you’re marked and I’m not.”

Steve strokes a thumb over Bucky’s neck, his eyes locked on the smooth skin there. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. When the next wave hits, if you’re ready, we’ll complete the bond. Like you said, we want your body to be at its most receptive.”

_“Steve._ I just ripped a hole in your neck like a fucking vampire. I’m ready. Also, I have to say, I’m amazed that you let me bite first.”

“Wanted you to be completely on board and comfortable. I wasn’t going to push you to let me bite. Told you, I’m following your lead here.”

“But…?” Bucky prompts.

“But nothing, sweetheart.”

“Steve. I can _feel_ you fighting yourself. And I can see the way you’re looking at me right now.”

Steve closes his eyes and swallows. When he opens them again, blue eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of pupils blown wide from desire meet Bucky’s eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees, voice rough. “Yeah, I really want to. _Especially_ now that you’ve bitten me. I want to know what it is that you’re experiencing now, want to feel you in the depths of my soul the way you feel me. I want every part of you for myself, want everyone to know that you are so amazing that you are _my_ mate, that you’re perfect.”

Bucky whimpers and shifts a little closer to Steve. He has no idea if the flood of desire in his system is from Steve or himself, he just knows that he needs Steve’s teeth in his neck _now._

_“Alpha._ Steve, Steve _please_. Want it. Want you.” Bucky fists his hand in Steve’s hair and bares his neck as he leans in. Steve growls and pushes back slightly.

“Need to wait,” he forces out, breath hot against Bucky’s skin.

“Now,” Bucky pants, rolling his hips. Steve’s knot has deflated, but he’s still mostly hard, and his words—combined with the fierce conviction and devotion behind them—have Bucky more than ready to go again.

A rumble tears through Steve and Bucky feels the world tilt again as Steve surges forward and puts Bucky on his back. Their mouths meet in a clash of teeth and Bucky locks his legs around Steve’s ass when he drives his cock back in.

“Fuck, yes, give it to me, claim me, fill me, make me yours forever. Want it. Want your knot and your mark. Want to give you the world, baby.”

Bucky feels the overwhelming need rise up within Steve as a strong hand cups his chin and wrenches his head to the side. Heat pools in Bucky’s core in anticipation, and on the next thrust, pain, sharp and bright, shoots through him as Steve’s teeth tear into his skin and settle in his claiming gland. The pain quickly becomes pleasure in the span of a heartbeat and Bucky comes only seconds after Steve bites, though it feels like an eternity has passed, and his orgasm feels as though it’s never going to end.

_Mine_ , Bucky hears in his head, and he doesn’t know if he _actually_ hears it or if it’s just such an intense feeling from Steve that his brain supplies the word in Steve’s voice. Regardless, his body warms and he already feels like he’s floating when he tries to send back _“yours”_ to Steve, his Alpha, his _mate_ , before his brain blinks out and he lets go and gives himself completely to the man he loves.

***

Slowly, Bucky becomes aware of his surroundings. He knows he’s safe because he can smell nothing other than Steve, and he curls into the warmth blanketing him. He feels a surge of emotion, love and protectiveness, awe and wonder, as Steve’s hand strokes down his back and he tucks Bucky into his body with a gentle press of his lips to the top of Bucky’s head.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

_“Mmm,”_ is all Bucky can manage in response, speech requiring too much effort and concentration.

Steve chuckles and wraps the blanket tighter around them. “Gotta say, sweetheart. Not feeling all that much grumpy. I’m not sure what you were talking about.”

_Why do I love this asshole?_ Bucky thinks, even as his lips curve in a soft grin and he presses a kiss to Steve’s chest.

Steve laughs outright. _Because I’m your favorite asshole,_ Bucky hears in his head, and he groans as he buries his face further into Steve.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m pretty sure that’s not a permanent thing. At least not from what I’ve read.”

“Fucking serum. With our luck it is.”

Steve hums and kisses the top of his head again.

“Go get them,” Bucky says, voice muffled by Steve’s body.

“What?”

“The stuff from Nonni’. You were just thinking about the delivery. Go get it. And coffee.”

“Hmm, there’s the grumpy.”

“Shut up.” He half-heartedly pushes Steve away. “Go.”

Steve slips out from under the blanket and tucks it snug around Bucky, fingertips trailing over the mark on his neck. Bucky shivers and feels his cock take notice.

“God. Go. Before my heat kicks back up.”

He eyes Steve’s neck, pleased to see that the mark doesn’t appear to be fading.

“’S only been an hour since you bit me,” Steve comments, and Bucky realizes that he knew what Bucky was focusing on and thinking. “And if it does fade, then you’ll just have to do it again. And again, until it sticks.”

“Fuck, I don’t think I can handle you biting me multiple times. Felt like an out-of-body experience.”

Steve’s face goes soft, and he leans back in to kiss Bucky sweetly.

“It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

“Steve, goddamn it, if you get me riled up before I get my cookies and my coffee, I swear to god I’ll cut you off for a week.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re grumpy.”

“I hate you.”

“Nice try, sweetheart. I know differently.”

Bucky stretches out with a laugh as Steve leaves the room. He takes stock of how he feels: his ass is pleasantly sore, but he’s not sticky, so Steve must have cleaned him up while he was out. Which is good, considering how full of come he’d been. He feels sated, his heat simmering just under his skin but calm. If he thinks about him, he can sense Steve, sense the joy bubbling through him as he’s busy _taking care of his Omega,_ and Bucky can feel the puffing up of the Alpha pride even at this distance.

“Don’t you eat any yet!” he yells out, and gets a grumbled reply.

He laughs softly to himself and pulls Steve’s shirt over his head as he sits up and rearranges the pillows to recline against them. His fingers find their way to his neck, and he feels gently along the bite, still a bit in disbelief that he’s got one, that he’d made it here, with a mate, an _equal_ , not someone who sought to control him, but someone who’d made him want to embrace his Omega nature instead of bury it. Someone who made him feel complete while still being his own person. Frissons of heat dance along his skin as his fingertips skate along the scabbed-over wound.

Sudden lust overwhelms him, and Steve moans as he stumbles into the room. “Stop,” he gasps. “Jesus, Bucky.”

“Oh god, sorry!” He yanks his hand away from his neck and Steve’s chest heaves as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Okay, new rule. No touching our marks if we’re not in the same room.” Steve falls to his knees at the entrance to the nest and passes in a white box tied up with ribbons. “I didn’t see any cookies in the delivery, so I’m assuming that’s what is in here. I’ll be right back with the coffee. Did you want anything else?”

Bucky drags his teeth across his bottom lip and shakes his head, doesn’t say that the only other thing he needs is Steve. And he forgot about the damn bond, because Steve’s nostrils flare and he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath before he stands, giving Bucky an eyeful of rock hard cock before he turns and leaves the room again.

When he returns, Bucky has set their small tray tables up at the outer edges of the nest, one on each side like usual, and their spill-proof mugs get placed into their holders. After the first two heats in the tower, Bucky had quickly realized that while nests were amazing, he and Steve have extremely enthusiastic sex— _because, hello, supersoldiers—_ and more than one beverage had been sent flying by an errant leg or arm, only to ruin blankets and leave broken pieces scattered about, and more than one plate of food had gotten mashed. All of which were terrible mood-killers in the afterglow.

Steve is surprised to see the box still unopened, and Bucky can’t help but to duck his head, hide the blush that he knows Steve can both see and feel through the bond. But Bucky has his sweet tooth, after all, and normally, yeah, he’d be digging right in, but these are special items.

“Whatcha got there, sweetheart? Wanna tell me about it?”

“Nonni’ taught me about a lot of things when I was working for him. He loves to just talk, and for the longest time I just listened. I think he knew that I liked hearing his stories, though, because he’d talk about anything and everything. One day, I saw him making cookies that I hadn’t seen before, and I asked him about them. He looked up at me, and he was smiling, but I could see the pain in his eyes. He was making them for his wife, to go and leave at her headstone. For their anniversary. They were wedding cookies.”

Bucky takes a deep breath before he continues, gaze on his hands as he fusses with the red and silver and blue ribbons that Nonni’ had festooned the box with. “I don’t have anything to offer you, Steve. I don’t have your resources, and you already have anything and everything you could need here at the tower. Given who we are, we aren’t exactly going to have some huge public wedding like Stark. If you wanted, we can go to city hall and make it official. Register as bondmates, even…even get married if that was something you want. But this is my gift to you. I asked Nonni’ to make us some of the cookies he’d made for his wife. He liked you from the moment he met you. I never told you—” he breaks off with a laugh. “He yelled at me for shooting you. Told me I was hiding, too. That you had a good reason to protect yourself and that I was lucky you loved me, that I’d found someone who was just as stubborn as I am and wouldn’t let me push you away.”

His hands shake slightly as he lifts the box and holds it out to Steve. When he raises his head, he sees silent tears running down Steve’s cheeks. He accepts the box in one hand and reaches forward to place his other hand on Bucky’s neck, over the mark.

“Thank you, sweetheart. That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but thank you. Although, you’re wrong about one thing. I _didn’t_ have everything I needed or wanted in this tower. Not until you came to live here. _You_ are what made my life complete, made it worth living again. I would be _honored_ to officially register us. As to the other thing, we can discuss that. I’m pretty sure Nat would kill us in our sleep if we don’t include the team.”

Bucky smiles through his own tears, leans in and meets Steve halfway for a kiss.

“Can we eat some of these now? I’m starving. I want real food, too. But, I kind of wanted the first thing we ate together afterwards to be these.”

“You better be careful, sweetheart. You might get accused of getting soft.”

“Open the fucking box, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. I can't believe that this is the last chapter. thank you so much to everyone who has been on this crazy ride with me!!! DO NO FEAR, however, because.....I have some extra scenes planned. There have been some great ideas given to me by betas or other readers that are just too good to pass up but didn't work with where the story was at the time. So there will be some timestamps and extra posts coming that are tie-ins to this story. ALSO my immediate future projects include TWO stories for the Marvel Reverse Big Bang (to be posted at the end of the year), and I've also signed up for the next round of the MCU Kink Bingo. I'm also eyeing the Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky Bingo card....and if I watch Hannibal again any time soon, I'll probably start another Hannibal fic, lol.
> 
> also, for anyone interested, the mating nest is a lovely combination of these two images:


	28. Chapter 28

this isn't a new chapter, really, so much as a heads-up to anyone subscribed to the story but not to me (which is, like a LOT of people....)

this is a series now. so you should consider subscribing to the series, because I'll be adding on stories at random with more adventures with these two idiots. 

series link: <https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862167>

and here's a link to the next piece, in which Bucky buys a giant squishy penis pillow and Steve is less than enthused: [https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681120 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681120)

I have plans for writing (at some point): an interview the boys do for a magazine/newspaper/tv show, bucky walking around the tower in a crop top when he thinks nobody is awake (but someone totally is), a visit to the dr regarding bucky's suppressants and some interesting revelations regarding his system, and probably more.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr!
> 
> <https://hanitrash.tumblr.com/>
> 
> also, check out my published stuff? pretty please?
> 
> [https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/](https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/e/B00RC8DGGS?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1577730376&sr=8-1)


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